#I’ve been keeping an eye out for it and I’ve kept every letter I’ve received from them

[mxmorel]

god the hits really don’t stop fucking coming do they.

[uplatterme]

Cherry Wine

—sub!kaeya/dom!reader, transmasc!kaeya/gn!reader | implied fwb relationship, fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort | mentioned nipple play, fingering (kaeya!receiving), edging, semi-public handjob (kaeya!receiving), mention of kaeya’s tcock like once though anatomy is kept pretty vague and gender-neutral

—kinda based on cherry wine by grentperez, that song has been on replay for days.

It’s not unusual for the Knights of Favonius to have these sorts of events, gatherings were held to provide some sort of bonding amongst other knights. A teambuilding activity, if you will.

He holds a glass of dandelion wine and the aroma reminds him of his…The smell reminds him of Angel’s Share and the said owner of that bar who isn’t here, and what he wouldn’t give to be in his position.

He stands idly in a secluded space, not wanting to catch the attention of the others who seem to be having a much more enjoyable time than he is.

His eyes wander around, examining his colleagues and other guests socializing.

The Cavalry Captain spots you and then out of nowhere, his hand is moving on its own, forcing him to drink the rest of the alcohol to hide the creeping blush starting to show on his face.

He turns around and faces the wall which is probably more suspicious than him just standing there alone, now that he thinks about it. However, he’d rather be caught dead than have you say something about him staring at you.

See, conversing with you isn’t really a problem. After all, you two have been friends ever since and even perform some acts that the average friendship doesn’t usually account for. Suffice to say, the knight trusts you a lot.

However, Kaeya might have stepped over that line a week ago…which is why he’s ignoring every letter you’ve sent to him. 

My Kaeya, I apologize for not meeting up with you lately. I have been stumped with the new work that Jean has assigned me for the rest of the week. Here are some flowers that I’ve gathered while I’m out in Liyue. I hope they won’t wither by the time you get this letter. I miss you.

He internally screams once he remembers the contents of that letter. A lovely bouquet of qingxin, one which he immediately freezes to keep alive for as long as he possibly can. You were really too nice of a friend to him.

You’ve always referred to him as “My Kaeya” ever since the first letter you formally sent. So he assumes it’s a friendly term to refer to him, something that he shouldn’t read further into if he doesn’t want to get his feelings hurt.

Also, it may or may not be his fault that you were assigned that many workloads from Jean…

He already messed up last week.

He tried to forget about it, but it’s impossible to forget when your fingers were inside of him, his juices soaking the sheets while your tongue had its way with his chest, nibbling his nipples just the way he likes them as your saliva trails down from his scars to his stomach.

It wasn’t even that bad. Literally, there were worse times when you two got at it like two wolves in heat, yet somehow that was when his mind just decided to spew out those three specific words.

He sounded like he was enjoying himself on a honeymoon with his newlywed. What was he thinking… he could have moaned out literally anything else. Hell, he would have rather moaned out in Khaenri’ahn for fucks sake. 

Yet he didn't, he said something much idiotic.

He can’t even say it in his mind right now, he’s far too embarrassed.

Kaeya is uncertain whether you heard him or not. He didn’t see you respond strangely at all, so is it possible you were too focused? Or maybe you did, and he just didn’t notice because he climaxed right after that mishap of his…

He’s hoping it’s the former.

He fidgets with the glass in his hand, breathing to calm himself down before turning around again. 

“Hi.”

Kaeya’s heart jumps at the sight of you being so near to him. How long have you been there to begin with?

“Hello.” He replies as cooly as he can, averting his gaze away from you.

“I’m back.”

“I see that.” Archons, what is he saying?

“Are you—” 

You cut yourself off, pursing your lips and giving him a smile before continuing. He’s seconds away from just bolting out of here.

“Did you like the flowers?”

“I did.” He answers.

“Good.” 

And as if it couldn’t get any worse, the hired musicians changes the current music playing to a more…romantic one.

That’s fine. He’s good at these kinds of things.

Kaeya shoves any sign of embarrassment or nervousness away and looks straight at you directly. You must have drank a lot, the dilation in your eyes makes it easy to tell.

“Care for a dance?” You invited.

“My, are you sure you can keep up?” He bites back.

“Probably not, but if it prevents you from standing by yourself then I’ll dance with you as long as I can.”

The genuineness of your words always manages to stir him up.

Kaeya laughs. “I see you’ve had much to drink.”

“Sure, something like that.” He catches a grin from you despite the way you bow at him.

He shakes his head, offering his hand in front of you. There’s a slightly noticeable tremble his hand makes but you place your hand onto his, keeping him still.

“I’m afraid a simple waltz is all I can do, I’m no Eula.” You admit.

“It’s fine. I’ll lead.” Kaeya says, trying to act as confidently as he can. 

“Alright then, Captain.”

His arm wraps around your waist as you place your hand on his shoulder. His breathing staggers but he tries to focus on the music and his feet, swaying you along with him. He dances gracefully, of course. Not that it’s surprising as he grew up in the Ragnvindr household.

He knows people are watching, he doesn’t meet their faces or yours.

“Kaeya.” You speak.

He raises his head. It’s bad etiquette to not look at the one you’re dancing with, though he hopes he can be forgiven just this once.

“Can we talk after this?”

He loses track of the time and his body moves as if it’s on autopilot. He only realizes that the music has stopped and so does he, when the people around him are clapping.

Kaeya faces you again, unsure of what to do. 

All of the sudden, his body is being dragged away to a more quiet spot, Your hand gripping his wrist. The balcony provides room for the two of you, the rest of the party being hidden away by the fancy curtain.

“Are you cold?” You ask.

The breeze is a bit shivering but he’s used to the cold due to the cryo vision he holds. 

“I’m fine.” 

He hears you sigh, as if that answer he’s given you was somehow wrong. You grab a flask from the inside of his blazer, taking a swig before handing it to him.

Kaeya smells the alcohol and he worries. “More alcohol?”

“It’s my first drink tonight.”

He doubts that, although he finds that there’s no reason for you to lie.

So, why do you keep giving him those eyes?

Kaeya gives in, drinking the rest. Warmth grows on his face and he’s unsure whether it’s from the wine or the fact that your mouth was just on the flask.

“This is new.” He examines it with a closer look.

“Cherry Wine. Diluc gave it to me, apparently it’s from a merchant he met.”

Kaeya chuckles. “I see you’ve been conspiring with my brother.”

There’s jealousy obvious when he says that, but who was he to be jealous? The line of friendship becomes more and more obscured.

“Well, unlike someone. He actually finds time to reply to my letters.”

“You’re mad.” He points out.

“Here I thought you were too dense to even notice that.” 

You close the distance between you two, his hands holding on the railings of the balcony as your hand steadies his back, kissing him deeply and much longer than any of the kisses you’ve given him.

His heart thumps from his chest, wanting more of your lips when you separate from him.

“Say it again. Tell me I didn’t mishear.” You plead.

“I…What?” You did hear him.

“Do I have to fuck it out of your mouth again?”

“Sweetheart, we’re in public. Gods, how strong is that wine—hey, wait!”

Your hand slips down his pants, palming the growing erection from under. Kaeya bites the back of his hand, your hand stroking his hardened tcock while you observe his face with a stern look.

“C-Come on, I really didn’t say anything.” He says, halfway between a soft whine and a cry.

“Captain, I didn’t take you for a liar and a coward.”

He’s dripping wet, he knows by the way the cloth sticks to the skin on his thigh. The pace you’re going at is undeniably slow, and he knows you won’t let him finish if he doesn't say those words again.

“Please?” Kaeya begs. It’s been a week without your touch and frankly, it’s a week too long.

“It’s admirable how you’d rather have me pleasure you like this in front of everybody rather than just admitting it.”

The knight knows that he’s enjoying this far more than he should be and that it’s the only thing worth remembering about this gathering.

And then your hand grips him tighter and his legs quiver, cursing your name out in a breathy moan. 

“What’s wrong? Poor Captain wants to cum, does he?” You tease.

“You ass.”

His thighs rub together, wanting more of that extra friction. He admits that the action is quite humiliating, though if there’s a way to get himself off without confessing his feelings for you, then he’ll gladly do that.

“No. Spread them apart.” You ordered.

“H-Huh?”

“You heard me.”

He follows through, a squeaky whimper escaping his throat.

“So desperate, My Kaeya.”

His foot almost missteps when he feels the warmth from one of your fingers slowly penetrating him. Oh fuck, you cannot be serious.

He throws his head back as you continue to explore more of his insides. And just like before, you’re meticulously playing with him just so he breaks apart.

“I already said please.”

“And it’s appreciated, dear. But that’s not what I wanted to hear.”

“Fuck…hn, you—”

He stays a wreck like that for a few minutes, not being allowed the permission to cum from your fingers. Why do you want him to say it that bad anyways? Do you really want to reject him like this? Right now?

Kaeya’s body feels heavy.

He’s close, oh so close. 

His nails dig into the skin of his palms, he hears the inside get quieter and for a second, he assumes that it’s because of how he’s gasping and panting because of you.

He shakes those thoughts, knowing how loud the music and gossiping of the knights must be.

“Do you not like me?” You blurt out.

What an absurd question. Why do you think he’s letting you do this?

“Am I too pushy, Kaeya?” 

Your words are contrasting your actions far too differently. Your fingers start to get rougher, he’s painfully hard and he just wants to—He can’t—he physically cannot hold it any longer.

The mention of your name is indistinguishable from a slobbering baby, he holds your waist again although for a particularly different reason this time.

It’s so cheesy how he gets so lovesick whenever he cums.

“I-I love you.”

His entire body collapses into an orgasm. He sobs onto your chest, he’s unsure whether it’s because of how fucking good that felt or the forthcoming response you’ll give as he’s finally admitted it.

What he didn’t expect however, is the fact that it’s not only his face that’s soaking from tears.

“I hate you.” You say.

There’s a hurt in his chest and he wants to take it back but what’s already been said is right there. He wants to apologize. It’s his fault after all for thinking anybody would think of him as anything more than a friend, for catching feelings—

His thoughts are silenced as you kiss him once more, it only lasts for a few and he’s left stunned as to why you would do that.

“I thought you finally caught on. I was so happy when you said you love me, I was caught off guard,”

You take a deep breath, calming yourself.

“And then, you decide to avoid me?! I even sent you qingxin, and you know I don’t like high places!”

…

“You like—no, you love me?” Kaeya states, the thought seems way too unbelievable.

“Obviously! Who in their right mind would address their friend as theirs?” You spat back.

You groan, pushing his already weak body away.

“I love you too, Kaeya. Don’t do that again, okay? You worried the shit out of me.”

“I…Okay. I won’t, I promise.”

He starts walking towards you shakily before pulling you into a tight hug. 

It’s a strange hug. The breeze is far too cold, your clothes are now sticky, and both of your eyes are red from crying. 

Yet somehow, it’s comforting.

It’s perfect.

[silverflqmes]

you are legit my favorite ffvii writer at the moment dude. if you feel like it, do you think you can write smth about being childhood friends w zack and reuniting with him one day? make sure to take care of yourself 💕 :)

໒⦂ 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.

notes. HELP YOU’RE SO SWEET ANON??? IWOWJDJDK i haven’t written as much yet and i still have lots to learn but that really warmed my heart to hear 🥹🥹🥹 i decided to combine this with another request, i hope that’s okay with you both!<3

genre. fluff + angst

disclaimer. tifa speaking on cloud can either be platonic or romantic — whatever you wanna think just don’t start up a whole ship war bc it’s embarrassing as hell. obviously this is a zack fic so focus on zack smh.

zack fair x gn!reader.

“you’re.. leaving for SOLDIER?”

you shouldn’t be shocked, that was the last thing you should have been since you had been the one to encourage his decision.

and yet.. why did it hurt? you had known that it would, it was only naturally — but not like this.

zack averted his stare from the star blanketed sky, smiling solemnly. “sure am. you helped me realize that becoming a hero is something that i should do — that the world needed my kind of help.. so that’s,” he paused, allowing the evening breeze to shift his dark bangs. “exactly what i gotta do.”

you fell into silence for a moment, pursing your lips together as you considered his words.

it had been your crush’s dream from young, since seeing sephiroth on propaganda and hearing of his endeavors, to become a hero. the life he’d led in gongaga was wonderful, peaceful.. but you knew, deep down, he’d wanted to make that name for himself. that zack was.. meant for greater things.

and you, torn between your feelings for him and the need to encourage him as his best friend.. had no choice but to put aside what you felt to urge him to embrace his dreams.

when he received no answer, the raven haired teen took it as a sign to continue, leaning back on his elbows. “as of now, you’re the only one i’ve told about my decision — cuz well.. as you know, my parents aren’t super chill with it.” he laughed out, shaking his head. “so i’m gonna leave tomorrow night. got everything packed up already, a letter ready for them to pass on and i’ll be good to go!”

“tomorrow night? so soon?” you nearly interrogated him, only to respond with a slow nod. “you have my word, don’t worry about it.” should you tell on your friend? would that keep him just a little while longer if his parents knew and prevented his departure? would he hate you for it and finally give you a reason to stop feeling this way about him?

no.. you couldn’t live with yourself if he had hated you. that was practically death served on a silver platter, your heart would never start again if zack had expressed contempt for you.

for a second, longing flashed in his eyes before he allowed himself to grin, patting your back gently. “you’re amazing y/n!! i knew i could count on you no matter what! i’ll be sure to bring you something real nice from the big city!! and that’s a promise!”

a smile that didn’t quite meet your gaze etched itself onto your lips as you let out a hum of agreement. “you’re the amazing one, zack. i’ll..” miss you. “..be holding you to that promise, so you better keep it.”

three years passed and no sign of zack. the promise stood, but remained unfulfilled.

you should have expected it, that becoming a SOLDIER meant never seeing him again. you knew he was alive, a letter would have come if he wasn’t, and his parents kept you posted thankfully.

yet, there was still an emptiness you felt in his absence. every year, you’d told yourself that perhaps maybe, he would come home to visit this time.

now, having turned eighteen, you had decided to leave the comfort of gongaga as zack once had, and journeyed to nibelheim — a village in the mountains. it was small, quaint as your hometown was, perhaps colder, but after being offered a job through your parents, it called to you.

your mother had been from nibelheim and met your father in midgar — who had left gongaga to pursue a career in research as she had.

despite their retirement, they had developed many connections.. one of which, had been in the mountain village.

when you pleaded to leave and join up with your friend in the city he’d left for, your parents had urged you not to, and were strict on it.. as though something had been terribly wrong there.

you’d never asked why they retired so early on, and just assumed they had wanted to settle since they’d made their money.

but it didn’t.. fully seem that way.

“didja hear y/n? there’s a group of SOLDIERS coming down here tonight. ahhh, i hope cloud is there — i haven’t seen him in years.” your companion and guide sighed out, pacing about idly as you jotted down notes on your observations of the terrain.

tifa had been a friend you’d made upon your arrival. she was a year younger, but a real go getter and great help on your expeditions. in the beginning you worried for her safety, stringing her along as you did — only for her to protect you from the perils you feared.

you’d have to ask if that mentor of hers was willing to show you a move or two on self defense.

“cloud, huh? is he in SOLDIER, too?” you had told the girl before you already about your old buddy, as there was no possible way of her exposing your feelings for him.

and honestly, it was comforting to confide in someone for a change.

she nodded eagerly at your question, smiling softly. “he should be, it was his dream to become a SOLDIER, like sephiroth — that’s what he told me one day before he left.. and he’d promised to always protect me, no matter what.”

your writing seemed to pause at her comment, head lowering as you willed yourself to chuckle despite your anguish. “is that so?” zack, as you recalled, had dreamt of the same. “well, i hope he comes home safe if he’s a part of that group.” you smiled a little, closing your notebook before standing up from your crouched position.

“that should be enough for today, thanks for coming along again — i think i’m almost there with reaching my conclusion on this strange increase in mako spillage on the landscape.. but i just- can’t seem to put my finger on it.” you muttered, knitting your brows together before casting a glance over at mt. nibel- the highest point of the area you had moved to. “whatever, they’re keeping in that reactor.. there’s something really off about it.”

the burgundy eyed female followed your gaze before humming absentmindedly. “yeah.. i’m hoping those guys coming today might know or at least clean up over there.. i’d hate to see what might happen if the pollution intensifies down here.” she answered softly, helping you up before looking ahead. “for now, let’s get back — it’s almost sundown.”

at the mention of the visitors on their way from midgar, your thoughts went to your old friend, but you reprimanded yourself quickly. you would not have hopes again — as they only ever existed to get shattered and turn into despair.

and yet.. that one percentage asking but what if, remained.

the sun had drowned into billowing clouds, a shade of golden casting over the scenery as you walked beside your friend, exhaustion creeping up on you. however, you reminded yourself that the descent was always easier than the ascent.

“and we’re back, thank you for taking the tifa express way~” your travel partner giggled, earning a smile in return from you. she always had a way of brightening the mood with her optimism. kind of like.. nevermind.

the brunette looked around when she found the villagers gathered in the centre, adjusting her hat with a pout. “did we just miss them? i didn’t think we would be this late..”

you copied her actions, letting out a sound of contemplation. “maybe they turned in, midgar is a long way from here.. i’m sure they wanted to just take things easy for the night and start off fresh tomorrow.”

tifa paused for a minute to think before letting out a sigh and nodding. “i guess you have a point — tomorrow, then.” she smiled again, holding out her thumb. “i’m gonna be their guide, i’ll make sure of it!”

you rolled your eyes in amusement before nudging her with your elbow. “whatever helps you sleep at night, tifa.. i’ll catch you in the morning, in that case. i still gotta sort some things with information i picked up today.” a trip to that mako reactor and your research might at last be complete. perhaps.. you could convince the group in bringing you along- especially if your friend would be going.

it was the perfect in!

“mhm, see you in the morning, y/n! don’t be up all night doing that work of yours if you wanna wake up on time!”

with those parting words, followed by a wave, the female dressed in orange walked towards the direction of her home, eagerly greeting her father at the door before joining him inside.

your shoulders fell, a low exhale escaping your lips as you adjusted your backpack. and just like that, she was gone.

you made your way into the inn you’d been staying at for the time being, rubbing your eyes.

it was a temporary arrangement, given you hadn’t fully decided yet if you would be staying permanently in nibelheim. however, the living accommodations worked just fine.

you hadn’t thought yourself difficult to please, anyway. so long as you had the necessary essentials needed to live, all was well. that was what you’d learned growing up in gongaga.

entering the inn, you greeted the host before ascending the steps, pausing when you caught sight of a towering, silver haired.. male? unless a woman could stand at nearly seven feet.. and across from him, stood.. no — had your eyes deceived you?

“z-zack..?”

the conversation between the pair, whatever it had been about, came to a full stop as they turned to face you, shock painting on the face of the SOLDIER with the darker hair.

“y/n..??” he spoke up incredulously, blinking over at you as his jaw fell just slightly. “no way- what’re you doing here.. in nibelheim of all places? i thought you were-”

“in gongaga?” you asked with a small smile before shaking your head. “my parents found me work here, so i moved just a few months ago. never thought i’d see you here, before returning home, no less.”

zack could feel the coldness of your words, piercing through him like icicles tipped in poison. pissed was an understatement.

the taller behind him smiled awkwardly before moving towards his door, not wanting to be muddled into the affairs of his triend. “i believe you both have some catching up to do.. i will see you in the morning, zack.”

the boy in question parted his lips in protest, but the cat-eyed male was gone before he could do so. damn!

awkwardly, he turned to meet your awaiting stare, swallowing thickly.

“sorry, i’ve.. had a lot going on.” he confessed, lowering his head in shame. “i wanted to come home sooner — especially after making first class just recently- but things.. everything that has been going on as of late at shinra, it’s been really messed up.” zack confessed, clenching his fists at his side before letting out a glum chuckle. “and it just keeps getting weirder.. what were the odds i’d find you here of all places?”

you leaned against the window, folding your arms as you gazed out. “close to none. i guess it’s a thing of fate, maybe.” you offered, sliding your eyes back to his zircon ones. “seems my parents were right to not send me to the city with whatever ‘messed up things’ that happened.”

the SOLDIER nodded, allowing a brief silence to pass before smiling. “they probably were, yeah.. don’t think you would have liked midgar much, anyway. it’s all gross and industrial looking.. although!” he blurted suddenly, perking up as though he’d remembered something. “wait right here, i’ve got something i want to give you!”

you rose a brow at his random burst of energy, reminding you that despite the change in his appearance, the development he had gone through.. he was still your zack, and that wouldn’t change.

he disappeared into his room before you could answer, rummaging by the noises you’d made out, which had you shielding your mouth with your hand. “don’t get lost in there, now.”

“like i would!” he laughed before emerging from his quarters, holding out a messily wrapped box for you. “no matter where i went, i always kept this with me, thinking that maybe- just maybe, i would pass through our hometown and find you to hold up that promise i made to you. finally,” the spiky haired SOLDIER paused, grinning brightly. “i was able to fulfill it!”

you blinked in surprise, taking the package into your hand as you felt your face burn despite the coldness provided by the high altitudes of nibelheim. “you.. remembered?”

appalled, zack let out a gasp of offense. “remembered? how could i forget?? a promise is a promise, and i intended on keeping it!” he huffed out before raising his fists before him in excitement. “now come on, open it!!”

overcome with a sudden happiness, to know you hadn’t been forgotten despite the negative thoughts you’d created, you opened up his gift to you with earnest. a glimpse of green entered your vision as you quirked a curious brow. a plant? no.. zack wasn’t the type to keep plants.

finally removing the top completely, you stared down at the present before stifling a laugh into your forearm. “you- you got me a cactuar.. stuffed toy?” you spluttered in surprise.

of course he did — it was zack for goodness sake..

“sure did!! ya like it?? it looked authentic when i saw it in the window!” he answered proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

you continued laughing, unable to contain yourself as you held your stomach. “it’s so random- but that’s.. that’s just like you to get me!” you wiped a tear, allowing a smile nearly as bright as his, or perhaps- even brighter for a change, to replace your initial frown. “i love it a lot, but.. you wanna know what i love more?”

a mixture of interest and excitement sparked in his eyes as he inched closer, eager to hear. “what? what is it??”

having caught your breath, you closed your eyes, holding the plush close to your heart. “being here- reunited with you, again..”

like an invisible string, knots and tangles had appeared in the thread that connected you both. however, it wasn’t impossible to unravel and detangle that which connected you both, to allow an opportunity of reunion.

( even if it was the right place, but sadly.. the wrong time. )

notes. bittersweet open ending cuz well.. it’s nibelheim- anyway, i hope this was okay! i think my writing style kinda changed.. scary. oh well! the support these last few days have been much appreciated<3 tysm you guys, hearts out to you fr<3

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[cantstoptheimagines]

Secret Admirer (Peter Kavinsky | To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before)

Summary — Your best friend has been keeping a secret.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Fluffy fluffiness; friends to lovers because it’s one of the only ways to live; some lowkey, classic mutual pining; Peter being a secret poet (not really); nicknames like ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’; Lara Jean being a very supportive (but slightly annoying) friend; literally one curse word.

Notes ➳ ‘Can’t Stop the Love’ Event (7/14) ➳ Word Count is 1,357.  ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule 

The smile that lit up Lara Jean’s face nearly made your heart stop. Her eyes twinkled with curiosity as she bent down to pick up a small, folded piece of paper that fallen out of your locker.

“You got another one!” 

“Yeah, I can see that, nosey,” you replied, quickly snatching the note out of her hands before she could become too interested in its contents.

“I just wanna know what he said!” she whined dramatically.

“Wanna know what who said?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you were met by none other than your best friend, Peter Kavinsky, hands shoved into his pockets with furrowed eyebrows. Lara Jean immediately grinned in excitement. She spoke before you could, loudly exclaiming, “Their secret admirer!” 

“Lara Jean!” you scolded, shoving her shoulder. “Seriously?!” 

“You’ve got a secret admirer?” chuckled Peter. “What do the notes say?”

“Nothing—!”

You felt paper being ripped from your hand. Glaring half-heartedly at Lara Jean, you watched as she began reading your letter aloud, “Your eyes burn into my soul like a candle in the dark. My hands long to tangle themselves in the fabric of your shirt. And your lips—”

“Okay, Covey,” you laughed, once again retrieving the paper, “that’s enough.”

Peter watched with a deep chuckle as you shoved the note into your back pocket, “You never told me about this. Do you like that kinda stuff? What he’s been writing, I mean. It seems... sappy.”

You scoffed, closing your locker after retrieving a textbook, “Just admit you’re not romantic and go, Kavinsky.” 

“Alright, alright! Take it easy, babe! I’m not judging!” he rolled his eyes with a smile, tossing his hands up in a defensive manner. “Seriously though... Do you like what he writes or...?”

If you had only spared a glance in Lara Jean’s direction, you would’ve noticed her narrowed, suspicious eyes as she stared at him. Your attention, however, remained on Peter, whose nickname for you sent your heart aflutter.

“I mean,” you shrugged, “the notes are really sweet. Who wouldn’t want someone to talk about them like that?” 

Peter gave you a small smile just as the school bell rang. His eyes followed your figure as you disappeared into the crowd. His trance was brought to an end, however, when a small fist punched his shoulder. Rubbing the sore spot, he glared down at Lara Jean, who had her arms crossed with an irritated expression. 

“Grow a pair, Kavinsky,” she glared.

He scoffed, flinching as she sharply turned away, causing her classic ponytail to hit him across the chest. Little did she know, he did ‘grow a pair’, as she liked to put it. He just needed to wait for you to read your newest letter for yourself.

You looked down at the note in your lap. You had already turned off your car, leaving you to sit quietly in the dark. The only light on the street came shining through the glass doors of Corner Café. 

All the kind, endearing words of your most recently received letter had been concluded with what should have been a simple choice: ‘If you want to know who I am, meet me at Corner Café at 10.’

But now that you were here, you weren’t entirely sure if meeting your secret admirer was what you really wanted. Your mind kept going back to the one person who always knew how to make you smile, who sent butterflies into your heart. Every thought led back to—

Knock! Knock!

You gasped in surprise upon seeing someone peering through the passenger’s side window, “Peter!” 

He gave you a nod in greeting and gently tugged at the door handle. You immediately unlocked it, allowing him slip inside your car. He settled into the passenger’s seat and closed the door behind him. 

“I didn’t realize this place closes at 10,” he said, “so I got us each one of these before they started shutting things down. Sorry about getting the time wrong.”

‘These’ meant two milkshakes, one chocolate for him and one strawberry for you, both topped with whipped cream and a cherry. Your favorite. Aside from the cherry. You always gave yours to Peter since he liked them so much. 

Once he was comfortable, Peter seemed to finally notice your surprised silence. He tilted his head at you and took a sip of his drink, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “You good?” 

You unconsciously accepted the strawberry milkshake, still staring at him as you asked, “What are you doing?”

Everything seemed to suddenly click within Peter’s mind. He cleared his throat, and then said, “Right. I guess I should’ve opened with—uh—I’m your secret admirer. Surprise!”

A glare set into your expression, “That’s not funny, Peter.”

“Not the reaction I was expecting, but alright,” he nodded slowly. “Is the fact that it’s me, like, not okay with you?” 

He watched as your features softened with realization. The way you looked at him was entirely new. With a quivering lip, you whispered, “You aren’t kidding?”

He exhaled with a small smile and shake of the head, “No. I’m not.”

Peter felt a swirl of emotions coursing through him. His palms were growing more and more clammy by the second. You really knew how to stress him out sometimes. However, he couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face when your response finally came.

“I’m glad it’s you, Peter.”

“Yeah?” he practically giggled.

You nodded, smiling wide, “Yeah.”

Peter reached out to take your free hand in his. He raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your skin. You could feel a cozy warmth spreading within you when he did so.

“I just have one question,” you said, taking a sip of your milkshake.

He hid his face behind your joined hands with a loud groan, “Oh no!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the sight of him. His cheeks were slowly becoming red with embarrassment. Peeking over your hands, his eyes twinkled as he asked, “What’s the question?”

“Did you really write those notes?” you asked. “Or did Lara Jean help you? Everyone knows she’s a total romantic.”

His face morphed into a shy grimace, “You’re close. I didn’t write them on my own, but Lara Jean wasn’t the one who helped me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your head tilted, and then you asked, “Then who did?”

He finally let your joined hands fall into his lap. His thumb traced patterns against your skin. With a sigh, he muttered, “Internet generator.”

You burst with laughter, nearly dropping your milkshake. Peter groaned again and leaned across the center console to hide his face against your shoulder. His hair tickled your skin as you rested your cheek on top of his head.

“Shut up!” his muffled voice demanded. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Dude,” you shook your head, “not a single person in the world could’ve gotten that information out—!”

“Hey!” he interrupted, abruptly shifting to meet your eyes. “You can’t call me ‘dude’ anymore!”

“What?!” you exclaimed. “Why not?!”

“Because,” he scoffed, as though the reason was obvious, “you can’t go around calling your boyfriend that! I’ll never hear the end of it from Trevor if you do!”

A grin slowly spread across your lips, and then you asked, “Who said you’re my boyfriend, Kavinsky?”

Any sign of happiness instantly disappeared from his expression. His hand grew tighter around yours and he leaned in. His eyes stared into yours with a whole new sense of seriousness.

“I don’t think that’s negotiable at this point, babe,” he muttered. “You think I’m gonna let you go when I just got you?”

“Oh, really?” you asked, trying to contain your smile. “Well then, I have one condition.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, eyes momentarily glancing at your lips.

“You, Mr. Peter Kavinsky,” you smirked, “have to show me your fancy internet generator.”

“Shit!” he groaned, bumping his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. “Fine! But only if I get to kiss you right now.”

You feigned a look of deep thought. Your actions made Peter roll his eyes at you as he waited for a response.

“It’s a deal.”

[theatreslave]

An Idea

A small love letter to @snamioneprompts i have no idea which of your prompts set me off but here is a little drabble.

“Minerva!” Severus yelled as he burst through the Headmistress's office door.

“Severus, what the hell are you screaming about?” Minerva folded her hands on her desk, looking expectantly at her Potions Professor.

“Obliviate me this instant!”

“What on earth are you saying boy?!”

“I must be insane!”

“Well yes, I can agree if you’re going to keep running around without an explanation” She sighed and continued writing her missive.

“I have done something terrible.” The dark man slouched into the armchair across from her desk.

“What have you done that is so terrible?” She sighed, resigned to listen to the dramatic antics of the ex-spy.

“I have found myself attracted to her!” He covered his face with his hands.

“Attracted to who?” Minerva asked although she already knew.

“PROFESSOR GRANGER! OBLIVIATE ME NOW MINERVA!” Severus stood up looking crazed.

Minerva chuckled and went back to her writing, “I will do no such thing. Severus, what is so wrong about Hermione?”

He looked at her offended, “Professor Granger was my student, is my colleague, and she’s an insufferable little swot and bane of my existence!”

“Hermione is a full-grown woman, has been your colleague for nearly as long as you were her professor, and you are also a swot and the bane of my existence!” She shot back.

“You cannot approve of this?!”

“Yes I do!”

“What on earth for???”

“Because Hermione will be thrilled when she finds out the man she has been pining after for 5 years actually sees her as a woman instead of the annoying insect she thinks she is to you.”

Severus was speechless, before stuttering out, “....I don’t think she’s an insect.”

“Well obviously, I’ve seen you stare at her arse whenever she wears muggle jeans and the way you wax poetic about her hair when you’ve had too much of my scotch.” Minerve looked at him with mirth in her eyes.

“I have done no such thing!”

“Severus there is nothing wrong with being attracted to a beautiful, smart, and brave young woman. Especially when she has felt the same for you for a very long time.”

"That is absurd," He replied automatically, but she could see the gears in his mind working as he met her eye again,“She has?”

“Did you forget how she tormented Ms. Genevieve Hartman?”

His brows furrowed as he recalled, “Last year’s astronomy professor?”

“Yes, the one who kept throwing herself at you.” Minerva rolled her eyes,

“Hardly”

“Don’t be daft Severus. You enjoyed the attention even if you didn’t return her sentiments. But did you forget how much Hermione disliked her? Hermione has the utmost respect for professors of any subject, you and I well know. But she wanted to hex the daylights out of the woman any time she came near you. Who do you think enchanted the mistletoe to pair her with filch 7 times?”

“I-I…”

Minerva laid her quill down and gestured for him to sit, “Well it’s as good a time as any to tell you this. Hermione has given me notice that the end of this school year is the end of her career here at Hogwarts. She has received a position at Beauxbatons and told me that she cannot keep pining after someone who will never want her.”

“What!”

“I truly don’t understand why you have rejected her so many times.”

“REJECTED HER? WHEN DID I REJECT HER?”

“Everytime she asks you to walk rounds with her, or chaperone hogsmeade, or go to dinner at the Three Broomsticks, or when she wants to sit with you at quidditch matches, or how she always tries to get you to dance with her at the balls. Hell she even enchanted one of the mistletoe to follow her around at the last yule ball so that she might catch you under it and you blasted it every single time.”

His mouth dropped open and closed and open like fish gone dumb. He muttered, “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t hexed you to hell and back for putting my cub through this.” She looked at him sternly.

“I never knew.” His voice was sincere and full of surprise.

“Well you should go tell her." She smirked to herself as she recalled her meeting before Severus had barged in, "Angelo was looking for her earlier with a bouquet of flowers he picked for her.”

“Whilmire? The DADA professor?”

“Yes, he’s been quite taken with her but noticed her infatuation with you. But since you haven’t shown any reaction to her advances he wanted to show Hermione his own attraction to her.”

“Where are they?”

“I believe Hermione was walking around the Black Lake. He should be reaching her right about now.”

“I have to go.” With that he rushed out of the Headmistress's office.

With a great sigh and a soft smile she muttered. “Stupid man.”

[festivalsofmargot]

Illicit Affairs {Dad!Garreth Weasley x F!Professor!Reader}

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are adults, graduated from Hogwarts, and are 18+)

Introduction: Garreth thinks back on his life with you, and it was far from perfect. But he’d relive every second if he had the chance. 

Word Count: ~ 13,100 (I think I’m gonna puke)

Warnings: Smut, Angst without a happy ending, Cheating, Loss

Author’s Note: Want to say right now that cheating is disgusting. This is purely a fantasy scenario. So if you get triggered by cheating I highly recommend you skip out on this fanfic. This romanticizes it and I didn’t really write the person getting cheated on as a realistic human being. More than anything, this is smut with a plot. I watched Cyberpunk: Edgerunners and I’ve never felt so empty inside. So writing this, I just felt like being sad, ya know? Like literally ruining my entire month.😃 Anyways, it’s 10 pm my time so still Wednesday for me. Bone Apple Tea Weasley Wednesday-ers! I’m going to hyperventilate and cry in bed. (Like wtf did I write this...?)

Songs (if interested):

Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

Little Stranger - Dawid Podsiad��o

I Really Want to Stay at Your House - Rosa Walton, Hallie Coggins

Baby Teeth - Bunny Lowe

It’s My Fault - End Credits -  Roque Baños

-

Whether the warmth in Garreth Weasley’s cheeks was coming from the multiple glasses of whiskey he had or the fireplace he sat across, he wasn’t sure. But it was welcome all the same. As he looked into the flames and slouched in his chair, lightly rubbing at his chin, he thought back on his life with you.

The two of you had been the best of friends while you attended Hogwarts. The moment he asked you to sneak a fwooper feather out of Professor Sharp’s office, he had felt in his gut that you were going to be someone special. 

He had always been upset he only had three years with you at Hogwarts, and you had been too. Both of you had said “If only we met in first year.” too many times to count, but meant it every single time.

He knew it now that you had felt the same way about him. But during school, it was a constant struggle not to kiss you, especially after every dangerous outing the two of you had gone on. He had fallen hard and fast for you during his fifth year, and that infatuation never seemed to dissipate, even to this day. 

Everything about you was perfect to him, you had fit together just right. But he was afraid if he ever confessed and it turned out you hadn’t seen him in that way, he’d lose you forever. 

Thankfully, you had made the first move a few years after the two of you graduated. Merlin knows his cowardly ass never would have. That following month in Hogsmeade had easily been the best month of his life.

-

“If you’re sweet, maybe I’ll get you that discount.” Garreth said coolly to the woman with fox eyes before him, restocking some potion ingredients on the shelves.

“Are you sure sweet is what you want, Gar?” The woman flirted back, and Garreth’s body tensed at the shortened version of his name coming off her lips. He was able to keep an easy smile on his face and continue restocking, but he still didn’t like anyone else calling him that except for you.

“Fine, play coy.” She sighed playfully when he kept quiet and she made her way out. She gave him a little wave and as soon as she was out of sight, he let the smile vanish from his face. He didn’t even remember this woman’s name truth be told, thank Merlin she left before he had a chance to let that slip.

Garreth had been a little more reckless than usual these past few months. He hadn’t received a letter back from you in ages. As soon as you graduated from Hogwarts, you pursued the magizoology field while he went to work for Parry Pippin.

Garreth knew your main focus would be going after any poacher you came across rather than studying magical beasts. Try as you might to talk down what you did in your letters, he wasn’t stupid, he knew you. 

Your silence had filled him with so much dread, he was wishing more than anything you had just decided you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He didn’t care, as long as you weren’t dead. Please Merlin, don’t be dead.

To distract himself, he dove head first into the bachelor lifestyle. Drinking and women were his main hobbies outside of J. Pippin’s Potions. Being young and handsome, living on his own, and having plenty of his own money now, he was making himself enjoy it.

Garreth was manning the store by himself that day, looking over stock and crossing items off his parchment when he heard the doorbell ring. He absently greeted whoever had just entered the shop, not taking his eyes off his list.

“Welcome to J. Pippin’s, let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Gar?”

At the sound of your voice, Garreth nearly broke his neck turning to look at you. His eyes were wide, breath hitching in his throat. 

The moment he locked eyes with you, you lost every word you had planned on saying to him. “I um… It’s good to see you again.” 

Garreth dropped everything he was holding, closing the distance between you two in only a few steps, pulling you into a tight embrace. You didn’t hesitate to hold him back, letting his warmth envelope you.

“I was worried you were dead.” He whispered into your hair as the relief washed over him.

“I nearly was.” You admitted.

Keeping his hold on you, he pulled back just enough to look at your face. He noticed then that there was a small bandage on your cheek, and some other areas looked recently healed.

“That’s why I’m here. I needed to see you. Needed to tell you I -”

Garreth looked into your eyes and listened close, silently urging you to continue. 

“I’m in love with you, Gar.” You breathed, as if a huge weight lifted off your shoulders finally telling him. “I always have been. It was close during my last outing and - When I thought I wasn’t going to make it, my biggest regret was never telling you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same. I - I just needed you to -”

Garreth silenced you by crashing his lips onto yours. Keeping one arm around your waist, he brought up one hand to cup your jaw. He had caught you by surprise, but it didn’t take long to register what was happening and kiss him back. 

This. This right here was exactly what you two always dreamed of doing ever since your fifth year at Hogwarts.

The sound of voices approaching the shop from outside made him tear his lips away from yours. He took a step back and you couldn't help the bashful smile that tugged at your lips.

"Sorry. Parry Pippin will have my head if he caught word of me snogging in the shop while he was away."

"No need to apologize." You chuckled and turned to leave. "I can leave you to it."

Garreth's eyes widened. "Where are you going?" He asked in a panic and took a step towards you. 

"I was going to run a few errands around Hogsmeade. Get a room."

Garreth opened his mouth to protest, but some customers came in. "Welcome." He called, dismissing his usual greeting line and looking back at you. "Don't get a room." Garreth said loud enough for only you to hear.

You gave him a smile and nod, then took your leave. He made his way back behind the counter, watching your form out the window until you were out of sight. How was he supposed to carry on working as normal now that you were back and he had free reign to kiss you?

-

By the time you finished up what you needed to do and headed back to J. Pippin's Potions, Garreth was hurriedly closing up the shop. 

He looked up with a beaming smile when you walked through the door again. Setting down some empty vials, he strode up and pulled you into another deep kiss. He was learning fast that he wasn't going to be able to help himself around you.

Pulling away, he went straight back to his closing routine, aiming to finish as fast as possible so he could leave with you. "Get everything you need?" 

"I did." You got a bit shifty, wondering if you should tell him what you had done or it would seem like too much too soon. It hadn't seemed that way to you, having known Garreth for so long. But you hoped he would be happy to hear the news.

"You know you’re staying with me, right?" He said as he put away some ingredients.

You smiled. "I was hoping that was what you meant earlier." 

He shot you a smirk over his shoulder. "I think you'll be very proud to see how tidy I keep the place."

"Oh will I?" You quipped, nervously glancing down to your feet and shoving your hands in your pockets.

Garreth took a double take at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “What’s got you so quiet?” A worrying feeling began to set in that he may have been too bold to assume you would be alright with staying with him.

You raised your brows and looked back up at him. “Nothing.” You assured. “Sorry, I uh -” You let out an amused huff at having gotten yourself so worked up. “I got something I want to tell you when we get to your place.”

The ease came back to him as he locked up some cabinets. “You know you already told me you’re madly in love with me, right?” 

“I don’t remember saying ‘madly’.”

“Oh, silly me. ‘Devastatingly’ was the word.”

“That could have been it.” You shrugged, biting back your amused smirk. “Wouldn’t hurt to say it a few more times.”

A cheeky grin pulled at his lips. You love me.

“And you haven’t said it back by the way.” You teased.

Garreth’s movements slowed to a stop and he looked back at you, quirking a brow. “I haven’t? Yes, I have. Haven’t I?” Fuck, I haven’t. He had said it in his head so many times, were you certain he hadn’t even slipped up and said it aloud once? 

“Well, then…” Turning out the lights and grabbing his coat, he shrugged it on and strode up to you. He cupped your face in his hands and planted another kiss on your lips. “I love you too.”

“That was corny.”

“It was.” He took your hand in his and led you out. “I’ll work on it.”

-

“After you.” Garreth said as he opened the door to his home. 

“Wow.” Your eyes widened as they roamed his place. “You weren’t joking when you said you kept it tidy. I thought you were, or at least had a different definition of tidy.” You turned back towards him and looked him up and down suspiciously. “This isn’t the Gar I knew back at Hogwarts.”

“I’m a changed man.” He said coming up and pulling you against him, capturing your lips. How could you expect him to keep his hands off of you at this point? If you asked him, he’d say the two of you had some lost time to make up for. 

On one hand, it was wonderful knowing you pined for him all these years just as he had for you. But on the other, it was a bit frustrating knowing he could have been with you all this time, could have pulled you off to secret corners and kissed you senseless.

“Wait wait,” You slowed his kisses to a halt and took glances around his home. “Is there a room I can change in? I’ve been traveling all day and want to get out of these clothes.”

“Bedroom’s just there.” He gestured with his head towards it, not taking his eyes off of you. You gave him a grateful nod, slipping from his embrace.

“Won’t be a moment.” You called over your shoulder.

While he waited for you, he decided to grab some glasses from his cupboard. Maybe you’d be up for a stiff drink or two with him to celebrate. But truth be told, he needed something to help with his nerves. He was beyond elated to have you back, he didn’t want to mess this up.

His hands were shaky as he poured, and he cursed under his breath. The nerves were really hitting him. Easy now, Weasley. It’s you. We’ve been friends for years. He tried to inwardly calm himself.

But you weren’t quite friends anymore were you? Your confessions meant you were seeing each other now, right? So he was heading into uncharted territory with you. Merlin, of all the times for him to overthink in his life, why did it have to be then?!

He heard his door open and he turned back towards you with drinks in hand. “How would you feel about -” Garreth’s jaw went slack and he dropped the glasses, shattering them along the floor. You were standing at his bedroom doorway, completely naked.

“Oh fuck.” He croaked.

“Come here, Gar.”

“Yep, coming.” Though his mind was a mess, he was thankful to every higher power he could think of that his body kicked into gear to get to you. 

His hands went for your hips first, gripping the soft skin there as his mouth went for your neck like a starved man, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites everywhere he could. So this is what it’s like to taste every bit of you, I always wondered.

You let out the most delicious sounds as he walked the two of you towards his bed. You fell back and he fell on top of you. You instantly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close. You had dreamed of having him like this for so long, it was hard to keep a loose grip.

“Mmh. Wait. Let me -” He sat up, and with hurried fingers began undoing his vest, you sat up as well and helped him, the both of you smiling like ecstatic idiots. If there was a feeling to describe looking down at you looking back up at him as you went for his clothes, it would be euphoria. 

Shrugging off his vest and then going for his shirt, he couldn’t believe how many layers he had on. Was this really what he dressed himself in every day? How did he ever find the time? 

Slipping off his shirt and unable to keep his lips away a moment more, he bent down to capture yours again. He stayed locked with you as he went for his pants. Thankfully there weren’t as many buttons as the shirt, and he shoved them down with your help. But the pants caught on his legs. He stood to his feet to get them off but tripped over himself, hitting the ground with a loud thunk.

“Ow!” He cackled, finally kicking them off and you went into hysterics. 

Climbing back onto the bed with a groan, he smiled down at you as he crawled over and laid on top of you. The nerves completely gone as you continued to howl with laughter. 

Sighing, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you held him lovingly against you as you tried to calm down.

“Satisfied already, are you?” He said with a feigned annoyance, but the grin was still on his face, hidden against your neck.

“Yes, very much so.” Your laughter dissipated into little giggles as you wiped away the amused tears from your eyes.

The two of you laid there like that for a moment, just holding each other. And he thought back to when you had cuddled and napped together in the Room of Requirement frequently during your Hogwarts days. How in Merlin’s name did he think that was just something friends did? He certainly wasn’t cuddling with Leander Prewett.

He didn’t let himself dwell on his missed opportunities anymore. Here was his opportunity now, right under him, holding him close.

He began kissing at your neck, and that seemed to get rid of your amusement entirely, something carnal beginning to take over. His mouth went up from your neck to your jaw, finding his way to your lips again.

He slid his tongue in when he felt your mouth part slightly, and you met him with yours. As your tongues tasted and entwined, he realized it was the closest he had gotten to being inside you, and he wanted more.

Breaking the kiss, he adjusted himself between your legs, teasing his tip at your entrance. He glanced down at you two about to join, then up at your face. Breathless with anticipation, you gave him a nod of your head, and he pushed himself in, ever so slowly.

You kept your eyes on one another as he thrusted into you with a slow rhythm, a rhythm that would help him savor being in you for the first time. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He breathed, relishing the feel of your slick heat enveloping him.

The noises that escaped you were maddening, and he was beginning to lose himself. But he didn’t want to lose himself, he wanted to be attentive to everything you did as you clung to him, naked in his arms. But when you arched your back and your breasts pressed hard against his bare chest, the control was fraying at the seams.

His thrusts into you came harder and faster, and your hold on him tightened, nails digging into his back. It felt as if you two were more alive than you ever had been. Being intimate with someone was one thing, but being intimate with someone you were in love with brought you to a whole other level.

Multiple times that night, you had gone over the edge together. Tasting, touching, gasping, and sighing.

-

Both of you sweaty, sore, and satisfied, Garreth had you tucked under his arm, looking up at the ceiling, completely serene. “Back at J. Pippin’s,” He began, his voice raspy. “You said you wanted to tell me something.”

You sat up a bit to look at him, he kept a hand on your back. “When I went around Hogsmeade, I stopped at Brood & Peck.” 

You sat up a bit more and Garreth sat up with you, beyond curious at what you were going to tell him. 

“I got a job there.”

Garreth’s eyes widened. “You did?” He had been too swept up in your confession and being with you, he hadn’t even thought about where you two would take things from there. But it seemed you were already a few steps ahead anyway, just like you always had been. 

He shifted closer and pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. “But what about your magizoology career? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled but… are you sure this is what you want?” He asked looking up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” You sighed. “I don’t want to live on the road for years to come. I just want to stay in one place and live my life.”

Garreth loved the sound of that. Even if you hadn’t decided to do this to be with him, he would have been ecstatic just to know you were leaving your dangerous lifestyle. He didn’t have to worry constantly about you getting killed anymore.

“Give me a few days and I’ll find my own place. Promise.”

“About that.” His hand went up through your hair and he pulled your head back towards his. “I wasn’t really planning on you leaving.”

-

Garreth was a nervous wreck. When the third potion that day had slipped through his fingers and shattered on the floor, he knew he needed to step out and take a breath of fresh air. 

He went out back and reached for the ring that was burning a hole in his pocket. When he had bought it, he had been more sure than anything you would say yes. But now that the time was approaching when he would ask you, doubts began to swirl.

Would it be too soon? Sure you had known each other and been close for years, but you had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. Granted, those past few weeks had been some of the best of his life. What if he proposed and you weren’t ready like he was? What if his eagerness to marry you would scare you off and you’d want to leave him and…

Garreth shook his head, taking another deep breath. His overthinking caused him to miss out on so much with you already, he couldn’t let it stop him again.

He took his time closing up the shop that day, he was still fidgety and wanted to get it together at least somewhat for when he went to meet you. Closing had always felt like it dragged on and on, but that night it seemed to speed by.

He went down to Brood & Peck and stepped through the door. You were looking over a map with Ellie Peck and discussing who knows what, probably another home relocation area for the beasts. Garreth couldn’t seem to pay attention, too in his own head still.

You glanced up at him and smiled, mouthing one moment. He smiled back and gave a little nod of his head, praying you would take your time. Merlin knew he needed every second you’d give him.

Finishing up, you grabbed your coat and waved goodnight to Ellie. You met Garreth and took his arm as you walked up the path to your home. You shot each other little smirks as you trekked along.

You sighed in exhaustion and rested your head against his shoulder. “Long day for you too?”

“Hmm? Oh er - yes. Long day.”

“More than anything I want to fall asleep, but I need to bathe first. The stables were a mess today.”

“That’s good to hear.” 

You huffed an amused breath through your nose and looked up at his face. He was staring ahead, seemingly off in his own world. “I think it was so bad I might quit and go back to my old job. Hope you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to write you.”

“Mmhm.”

“Sebastian Sallow showed up today and confessed his love for me again.”

“Mmhm - Wait what?!” He snapped his head to face you with wide eyes, but then relaxed when you started to cackle. “Not funny.” He grumbled.

“It was a little funny.” You gave his arm a loving squeeze. “What’s got you so distracted?”

He swallowed thickly and stopped walking. You stopped walking with him and raised a brow at him. “Should I be worried?” You teased.

He decided he just needed to get this over with or he was going to be a nauseated mess for the time being. He took a step back from you and went down on one knee.

At first, you thought he dropped something on the ground, then it hit you when he reached into his back pocket and took out a ring.

He said your name and looked up at you with tortured eyes, your lips parted slightly in shock. “I - I was going to make a special dinner tonight and ask you then but I think I’d burn the house down cooking I’m so nervous.” He swallowed thickly, glancing down at the ring and then back up at you. “I can’t remember exactly what I planned to say. But it was along the lines of me having been mad for you since we were kids, and how I want to be mad for you the rest of my life.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and your chest was nothing but a fluttery mess. “Yes.” You breathed, getting on your knees with him. 

An elated smile tugged at the corner of Garreth’s lips. “Yes? I - I had more I was going to say though - but… Yes?”

You nodded your head vigorously and the two of you couldn’t help but laugh. He put the ring on your finger and you grabbed for each other, kissing one another wherever you could get your lips on.

-

It had already been a month now that you and Garreth were together. He couldn’t believe how the days flew by being with you. But he shouldn’t be surprised. Every day consisted of him waking up to you in the morning, getting up and going to a job where he was surrounded by potions, walking down to meet you at Brood & Peck when he was done, then finishing it off by being buried deep inside you throughout the night.

Sure, you two may have lost out on some hours of sleep. But one could argue that you two taking the time to wear yourselves out could get you a deeper, more effective sleep. It was a running joke between the two of you, and neither of you were sure it was true. But you were both happy, and that was all that mattered.

With a smile on his face he couldn’t seem to shake, Garreth took the time to restock shelves at work. The doorbell rang when someone came in, he recited his usual line with the peppiness that had a hold on him this past month.

“Welcome to J. Pippin’s.” He turned towards the customer. “Let me know if -” He stopped cold in his greeting seeing it was Victoria Willowsmith, an ingredients delivery girl he had been seeing off and on before you came back. “Afternoon, Victoria.” He began as casually as he could, inwardly praying she just wanted to drop off ingredients and leave. “Got ingredients for me?” He put on a polite smile.

She looked uneasy as she walked towards him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. “Um… not today.”

He absently took out a rag and began polishing a nearby potion vial. “Then what can I do for you?” Something was off, he could feel it. 

“I need to speak with you.”

-

When Garreth arrived to meet you outside of Brood & Peck, you threw yourself into his arms as you always did. “Mmm, I’m ready to head home.”

He kept quiet as he wrapped his arms back around you, but you noticed his hold wasn’t nearly as tight on you as it normally was. You stepped back slightly, looking over his features and noticing he wasn’t meeting your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in concern, placing a hand on his cheek.

He took a deep breath and took your hand down from his face, stroking his thumb over your skin as the anxiety built up sickeningly at what he was about to tell you. “Walk with me.”

You remained silent as he guided you away from Hogsmeade, down the stone path to a place more isolated.

Garreth sat the two of you on a nearby bench as the sun began to set. He held your left hand in both of his, looking at the ring on your finger. He couldn’t stand the thought of it ever coming off.

The way he was acting brought on a sense of trouble. But you willed yourself to keep quiet, and let him say what he needed to say. As he held your hand, you looked out into the sunset, hoping the sight would help keep you calm.

“You’re everything to me. I hope you know that.” Garreth began, but it only made all of this more eerie. When you didn’t say anything in response, he knew he had to just tell you, not drag this on any longer. “Before you came back, I was seeing this girl off and on. Nothing serious. But she’s come back and told me that she’s -” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and he felt you tense up. “- told me she’s pregnant with my child.”

Your stomach went into agonizing knots as you continued looking out into the sunset. You wanted to throw up, you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. But after a moment, all those intense feelings turned into something numb. 

“Please say something.” Garreth pleaded, finally looking at you then, unable to read your expression. “Shout at me. Anything. I just need you to say something.” 

You met his gaze and gave him the smallest of smiles. “You’re going to be a dad.”

Something in him broke. He had wanted you to say those words to him one day, but not under circumstances like this. He sighed your name as you stood up and slipped your hand from his. 

He stood with you and tried to search your eyes, but you gave him nothing.

“I uh -” You cleared your throat, trying to hide the sadness that constricted it. “I need to be alone at the house for a bit if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” He took a step towards you, but you took a step back, and he wanted to die. 

Without another word, he watched your form walk away. 

He slumped back down on the bench until the sun had completely set. Then he headed over to Hog’s Head. Three Broomsticks felt a little too upbeat for such a night.

After a few drinks he decided it was time to face you again at home. Taking one last sip of liquid courage, he made his way out. 

The first thing he noticed approaching the house was that none of the lights were on. 

“No…” 

He burst through the door and called your name in a panic, striding through the house and searching every room for you. “No no no.” But you were gone, and so were your things. There wasn’t a trace of you anywhere, not even a note.

Garreth fell to his knees, the pain hitting him all at once. He had never felt such an ache in his chest, as if a piece of him was gone, ripped right from him.

-

“Let’s see your list, bug.” Garreth said to his little one as he stepped out the door with her. The ecstatic, freckled, redheaded girl handed him the parchment that listed everything she needed for her first year at Hogwarts and he looked it over.

“Merlin’s beard! I don’t think I had this many books when I attended.” He teased, ruffling her hair.

“Dad.” Matilda grumbled, swatting him away and fixing her curly locks before they got into town. He and Victoria had agreed to name her after his aunt after she passed. She may have been tough on him growing up, but she had done so much for him, it only felt right.

The two of them went up and down Hogsmeade, getting everything she needed. Thankfully, they could save a bit on everything related to potions class. Ever since he took over for Parry Pippin, they had more potion equipment and ingredients to last a lifetime, even for him. Too bad Matilda didn’t seem to share the same passion for it as him. Her attention always seemed to lie in magical beasts, of course. Try as he might to shift her interests all these years, it was no use. 

He saved the most exciting part for last, getting Matilda her wand. As they walked on to Ollivanders, he caught sight of that day’s Daily Prophet on the news stand they passed. His jaw tensed when he saw you were on the cover yet again. Seems he saw you there several times a year. 

The first time he ever saw you on the cover, he had to do a double take. His legs turned to jelly and he immediately bought the first copy he laid eyes on. He would sneak off to stare at your portrait on the paper for months, maybe even over the course of a year truth be told. But the more he saw you grace the cover over the years, he’d eventually grown indifferent to it. It did start to get old after more than a decade of it happening.

What could you have accomplished this time? Perhaps you took down another magical beast fighting ring, discovered another abandoned dragon’s nest still full of eggs, or maybe even became the first ever human leader of a mongrel pack! Garreth didn’t care. All he needed was that little reassurance you were still alive and well and he could move on with his day.

He hoped Matilda didn’t catch it. Much to his chagrin, she was one of your biggest fans. He always… always had to buy the paper for her when you were on it. When he heard her gasp, he squeezed his eyes shut briefly in defeat. Of course she caught it.

“Dad! Can I have some galleons for -”

“Here, love.” He was already reaching into his pocket and handing her some money. He had never been one to say no to her. She gratefully (he liked to think) swiped it from him and took off towards the news stand. 

“Come right back to Ollivanders.” He called, waiting back and not wanting to chance reading over the headline.

-

You stepped out to greet your students for your first beasts class. Who would have thought, even after the career you’ve had, you’d still get nervous? 

As you looked out to all the little first years, you were surprised to see them all silent, attentively waiting to hear what you said next. “Well… Hello, everyone. Today, I say we jump into things and start with basic caretaking for each beast here we have in the stables. All we’ll need is a brush and some feed. But before we begin, any questions?”

Hands shot up, way too many hands. “Oh! Ah - yes you?” 

“Is it true you took down Bartley Barrin’s graphorn fighting ring?!” A curly haired student that reminded you all too well of Lucan Brattleby asked in amazement.

You raised your brows, not sure if it would be appropriate to answer such questions, especially to your first year class. “Ah, right. We can discuss such things later, I suppose. Outside of class hours. Now, any questions on basic caretaking?”

All the hands slowly went down except for one, enthusiastic, redheaded girl’s. She was reaching her hand up in the air so high you were worried she’d pull a muscle if you didn’t call on her. 

“Yes?” 

“Should we grab extra feed for the nifflers so they can stow it away for later?” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “No need. They’ll get fed multiple times a day just like the other beasts.”

The girl gave a firm nod of her head as if saying got it. Then her eyes widened and she shot her hand up again. 

“Go on.” You were trying to bite back your delighted smile. You’ve only had an enthusiastic student for a few minutes and it was already making you giddy. Please let there be more like her.

“Can we use the same brush on all the beasts? Or do we need to grab different sizes?”

“You can certainly use the same brush on all of them, er - What’s your name, dear?”

“Matilda Weasley.” She answered with a gap toothed smile.

You kept a straight face as your insides constricted a bit and you nodded your head. This wasn’t the first Weasley you had encountered since you arrived back at Hogwarts, it was probably the seventh truth be told. Yet you couldn’t stop your mind from reeling.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Weasley. I hope you keep this enthusiasm even after you see how grumpy kneazles can be.” You clapped your hands together. “All right then! Everyone grab a brush and some feed and we’ll head over to the stables.”

-

“Dad!” Matilda burst through the door of J. Pippin’s Potions and ran up to Garreth.

He met her with open arms. “There’s my girl. Sporting the Gryffindor robes too, I see.” He looked at her proudly. But then he furrowed his brows and checked his pocket watch. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner?”

“I ate fast.” She said dismissively. “I wanted to ask if I could have some money to go to Brood & Peck to get my own beasts brush!”

Garreth sighed. “Don’t they have brushes you can use for class, bug?” 

“They do, but they lock them away when class isn’t in session. Professor Y/N said I could visit the beasts whenever I wanted in my spare time to -”

“Professor who?” 

“Y/N, the beasts professor. Didn’t you read the paper?! Now, as long as I have my own brush, I can stop by even when no one’s able to take out the class brushes from storage so…”

Garreth let Matilda go on as the room started to spin. Shakily, he reached into his back pocket and grabbed some galleons for her. Probably giving her too much for what she wanted at Brood & Peck. But he couldn’t seem to think straight at the moment, and he didn’t need Matilda around to see her dad possibly faint.

“Thank you!” She sang, sprinting out the door.

Garreth leaned himself back against the counter, trying to stay steady. He rubbed at his chest in hopes it would help his heart rate go down. The last he saw you was 12 years ago, when you walked away from him. Not a letter, not a glimpse of you outside the Daily Prophet since. 

The Daily Prophet.

Garreth grabbed his coat and keys. Switching the open sign to closed, he locked up and made his way home.

He was greeted by Victoria when he stepped through the door. "What are you doing home so early?" She called from the kitchen.

"Matilda needed something from her room." He threw out as he headed there.

Throwing open her door, his eyes roamed the room quickly in search of the Daily Prophet he had gotten her. He spotted it on her dresser and made a beeline for it.

"Famed Magizoologist Takes Up Teaching…"

He looked over the article explaining your move to becoming the next beasts professor for Hogwarts and the bustling nerves within him wouldn’t let him stay still. You’re here… you’re just down the road. 

His body seemed to be moving without thinking. He dropped the paper to the ground and made his way out, headed down the road to Hogwarts.

-

“All right, that's enough questions for today I think.” You chuckled awkwardly, and the several students that had been asking you endless questions about your poacher hunter days whined.

“I know I know. Now I think it’s best you all be off before curfew anyway. I won’t be so interesting when I have to give you detentions, will I?” You guided the students out of your office. 

Once you shut the door behind them and were finally alone, you let out an exhausted sigh. Sure, you were grateful you didn’t have difficulty getting students to listen to you, but you couldn’t have predicted how exhausting their questions would become. 

Your “career” wasn’t something you looked back on fondly. You had done a lot of things you couldn’t take back, things you lost sleep over. But pursuing it was all you had.

As you turned to get ready for bed, a knock sounded at your door, tensing you up. You took a deep breath to relax and prepped yourself up a bit. No need to get a reputation as a scowling, moody professor quite yet. 

Turning on your heel, you went back to the door. “It’s almost curfew.” You called as you opened the door. “You should -” 

Words seemed to escape you, which probably didn’t matter much since your voice did as well. Locking eyes with the green ones before you seemed to have the same effect as petrificus totalus. 

Garreth was just as frozen in place as you. He didn’t have a plan for when he faced you again, all he had been set on doing was seeing you in person before him. He had walked up and down the road from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade until the sky went dark. Even after all that time, even after 12 years, he still had no idea what he’d say to you.

After a few moments of silence and the both of you trying to regain composure, you swallowed thickly. “Mr. Weasley.” You nodded your head in some sort of greeting, at least that’s what you thought your head did.

“Professor.” He attempted to greet back. “May I… May I come in?”

Nodding your head, you moved to the side to let him through. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped inside. He needed to or else he’d be a fidgety, thumb twiddling mess.

You closed the door and the both of you stood there in silence for a moment, not sure where to begin in starting a conversation with a history such as yours. “Would you like a drink?” You offered. 

“Yes. Thank you.” He answered, looking around your office and living quarters. Any minute now, he’d be able to look your way again. Any minute now…

You went to grab the bottle given to you as a welcome gift when you first arrived to teach at Hogwarts. You were planning on saving it for a special occasion, and you couldn’t think of anything that could top what was happening then.

Pouring for the both of you, you grabbed the glasses and walked over to hand one to him. He gave a polite, if not awkward, smile as he took it from you. Both of you downed it a bit fast. Your frantic nerves helping you push passed the dreadful taste. 

“Another?” You asked.

“Please.” You gladly took the glass from him again and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. 

You returned with your refilled glasses, and he took his from you, just as appreciative as the first time.

“What brings you here?” You managed to begin.

He looked down at his glass, twirling the liquid around in his hand. “I needed to see you.” He decided to confess.

Your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. The only response you could manage was a nod of your head and an absent sip of your drink. 

He looked up and met your gaze. “Was this stupid of me?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

He gave the smallest smile and looked back down at his glass.

“I think I met about ten different Weasleys today.” You casually began with a chuckle, the warmth in your cheeks putting you a bit at ease. “By chance were any of them yours?”

He let out an amused breath through his nose. “My little Matilda just started.”

“Ah, so it was Matilda. I had a suspicion. She’s delightful to have as a student just so you know.”

Garreth began to feel a bit more at ease now too. “I bet you it’s only because you have her for beasts class. Any other subject, you might have struggled to keep her attention.”

You nodded your head. “I may have gotten the sense she loved magical beasts. Just a little though.” You quipped.

Garreth shook his head. “Already asked me for her own beasts brush. I tried to remind her the school had some she could use, but she’s a silver tongue that one.”

You laughed at him then. The thought of Garreth Weasley being such a sucker for his little girl was too sweet not to smile at.

“What?” He asked, an amused smile of his own plastered on his face.

“Look at you, Gar. A proper dad.”

His chest fluttered at you calling him that again, but he shoved it back. “In all its glory.” He took another sip of his drink when his emotions began to swirl. In a perfect world, he would have had children with you. You would have been Matilda’s mother. But he shouldn’t dwell on impossible things like that, he had done enough of that already.

“What are you up to these days?” You asked.

Garreth gave a shrug. “A lot of the same really. Parry Pippin gave me his shop.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? That’s wonderful, Gar!”

There you went, calling him Gar again so effortlessly, blissfully unaware of what it did to him. He took another sip. “Not too bad, yeah? Never felt the need to change the name, thought it worked fine as is.”

“Outgrew ‘Garreth’s Subterranean Concoctions’, did you?”

He grunted and rolled his eyes in response, taking another sip of his drink. But he had to admit, at least to himself, he was a little impressed you remembered. “I decided it was, in fact, too obtuse. But I’d rather talk about you and your adventures. Think I’ve seen you in the Daily Prophet once or twice.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Merlin, don’t remind me. Those journalists are pests. Won’t leave me alone.”

“Can’t really blame them. You’re probably the most interesting magizoologist they’ve encountered. You’re famous now.”

You rubbed at the back of your neck. “I wasn’t trying to be. I think the only plus side is my students seem to be very keen on what I have to say in class.”

“My Matilda’s going to talk your ear off. I hope you’re prepared.”

You smiled again, a warm feeling coming over you. You always knew Garreth would be a doting father. As much as you wanted him to have been the father of your children once upon a time, you couldn’t be mad with where things ended up. He clearly adored his little girl.

“I think you’re underestimating how much I’ll appreciate her enthusiasm.”

“Oh.” He guffawed with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I am.” Another sip. When he realized he finished the last of his drink, he took out his pocket watch and cursed under his breath. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have come to see you so late.”

You waved him off and chugged the last of your drink, going up and taking his glass from him. “You, Mr. Weasley, are welcome any time.” You said as you went to put away the glasses in your kitchen.

He rubbed a hand down his face as you walked him to the door. “Thank you… for tonight. Really.”

You met his serious stare and smiled at him. “Of course, Garreth.” 

He smiled back, but it had a hint of sadness to it. Call me Gar one more time. Just once more. 

“Goodnight.” He opened the door and went into the night air, giving you a small wave over his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” You called and waved back, then shut the door. You took a deep breath and released it, relieved that your reunion had gone as well as it had. Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could be friends with him again.

Another knock at the door tore you from your hopeful thoughts. You didn’t hesitate to open it back up. “Forget somethi -”

“What’s on your neck?” 

You stilled, you had completely forgotten you had it on. You had worn it for over a decade, it basically felt like a part of you now. If you had known he was coming you would have hidden it for the time being, but it hadn’t even crossed your mind until he asked you about it just then.

You were too flustered to answer, and Garreth walked up until he was toe to toe with you. Not taking his eyes off yours, he reached a delicate finger up to tug at the necklace you were wearing. He pulled it up just enough so that it wasn't covered by your shirt anymore. His eyes dropped to what was on it, and he lost all sense of reason. It was the engagement ring he got you. He thought he was seeing things when he caught the briefest glimpse earlier, but he had to be sure. He had to. And now that he was, he knew he was about to do something really stupid.

He looked back up to your eyes, his hand shifted from holding the necklace to cupping your neck, and he slowly leaned down towards you. “You need to tell me to stop.”

You shook your head, your breathing growing heavy. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to close the distance between you so badly, but not like this, not when he had a wife at home. “Go home, Garreth.” You somehow got yourself to whisper, his lips just a breath away from yours.

He stopped. “Alright.” He whispered back and nodded, forcing himself to come to his senses. He kept his eyes on yours as he released you and walked backwards. Once he was far enough, he turned on his heel and strode up the path back to Hogsmeade.

-

The next day, Garreth headed down to Hogwarts with a crate of overstocked potion ingredients. He remembered how you always asked him for potions back in your school days, surely giving the excess stock to you would be better than tossing it out. Of course, that was, without question, the only reason he was heading to Hogwarts.

He walked along the path towards the beasts class stables, carrying the crate over one shoulder, and he spotted you talking to a student. He walked a bit slower so he could watch you. 

You knelt down to the young student’s level and explained something to him. The child was cradling a puffskein in his arms, and you were gesturing to different points on the creature while you spoke. Seeing you interact so well with kids did something to Garreth’s insides. 

You glanced in his direction and his throat went dry. You turned back to the student and stood, finishing up your lesson. The student handed you the puffskein and you waved goodbye as he ran off.

You turned towards him, squinting slightly with the sun in your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I help you, Mr. Weasley?”

He pointed up at the crate on his shoulder. “Was wondering if you wanted some spare ingredients.” He called back.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me. One moment.” You turned to put the puffskein back in the stable.

Garreth shifted on his feet as he waited for you. He tried to keep his gaze on you subtle as you bent over to put down the puffskein and lock up the gate. But once you faced him fully and walked towards him, he eyed you with undivided attention. Merlin, you’re stunning.

“Let me get the door.” You said as you passed him.

He followed close, doing everything he could to not look at your backside in those pants. With a click of your key in the slot, you pushed open the door.

He stepped in and glanced back at you. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

Garreth went and placed the crate on your desk, taking glances around your hut, getting a scope of the place. Then he went back up to you, bringing himself toe to toe again, just as close as the night before. “I’m off then.”

You took in his freckles for a moment. Surely it was harmless to admire from afar, right? “You’re welcome any time, Mr. Weasley.” You decided to remind him.

He took the briefest glance at your neck, catching you still wearing the necklace with your ring. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow, Professor.” With that, he took his leave.

-

It had become a daily occurrence for Garreth, walking down to Hogwarts with spare ingredients from the shop. It was the highlight of his day every time. Just getting to be near you and feel that thick as honey tension between you, it was intoxicating. 

It had gone on for weeks, and the excitement hadn’t dissipated in the slightest. If anything, it only grew by the day.

His newfound routine had been thrown off when there was a shortage of wiggenweld potions across the valley. He had been the only shop to have stock and he wasn’t able to leave until every last customer was helped. 

As soon as everyone had cleared out, he rushed to close up. Throwing the crate with ingredients over his shoulder, he picked up the pace to make it down to you before Hogwarts’ curfew.

He didn’t expect to walk down and see you waiting on the steps of your hut.

His footsteps slowed to a stop as you stood and eyed him. “You're late.” You stated as you went to get the door.

“Busy day.” He replied as he came up behind you and stepped inside. Walking past you, he went to your desk as he usually did, but stopped and turned when he heard you close the door and lock it.

He met your gaze as you took determined steps towards him. “Put it down.”

Garreth recognized that look in your eye, even if it had been over a decade since he’d seen it. He dropped the crate to the ground, the wood breaking and the ingredients scattering across the floor. He closed the distance between you two, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling your lips to his.

Your hands reached up and gripped the fabric of his shirt, holding him against you just as you had dreamed to these past 12 years. 

The two of you licked and bit and sucked at each other's lips in an attempt to fill this insatiable need between you, gasps and sighs escaping. Garreth gripped at your thighs, picking you up and hoisting your legs around him. He carried you to your desk, the two of you urgently shoving off everything that covered it as he sat you on top of it. 

With hurried hands, you went for each others’ pants, unbuttoning and pulling down the fabric that separated you both. As soon as he had access, his tip was at your entrance. You shifted so he could enter you, moans coming from both of you as he did.

His thrusts were hard and spaced out as soon as he was in you again. He couldn’t let himself go fast. No, he needed to savor every second of this. The two of you kept your eyes locked on one another as he pounded into you. 

When your head began to fall back, he cupped your face, keeping you upright. “Keep looking at me.”

Your hands shot to the back of his head and held tight to his locks as he thrusted into you. He crashed his lips back onto yours, your tongues battling for dominance, and his release was coming fast. 

He reached up for the top of your shirt, tearing the top few buttons open, breaking them off and sending them flying. He broke your kiss and looked down at your necklace, the ring in full view before him. Grunts escaped him as his thrusts came faster and he plunged into you until completion.   

Both of you breathing hard, you remained holding one another. He rested his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath. You seemed to come out of the blissful haze before he did, but when you shifted to get up he held you in place. 

“No.” He said. “No, please. Can we stay like this a little longer?”

The desperation in his voice matched the desperation you felt. But this was a mistake, you shouldn’t have initiated as you had. You should have let him drop off the ingredients and go. But you shut the door and locked the both of you in, selfishly taking him as if he were still yours. 

“I’m sorry.” You breathed as you shifted away from him and off the desk. “I shouldn’t have… Forgive me, this is all my fault.” Your voice was strained as you went to grab your discarded pants. 

Garreth pulled up his own pants as well, numbly looking at the wall before him. He wanted your warmth against him again, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get his fill of it. “I’m just as much to blame.”

“I think -” You took a shaky breath and went for the door when you were both clothed again. “I think I’m fine on ingredients. Thank you for everything.”

Garreth’s face went stoic, and he took his leave without looking at you. “You’re welcome.”

-

You and Garreth kept your distance from each other throughout the following months. But he still kept an eye out for you throughout Hogsmeade. He allowed himself to look, but the temptation to touch never faded.

After a rather taxing day at the shop he decided to pop into Three Broomsticks, he tensed when he saw you at a table in the back talking with Brood & Peck’s new worker. He had seen the fellow around and heard some things about him. He had quite the adventurous background, just like you. 

Garreth tried to keep the scowl off his face as he enjoyed a drink or two… or three.

Throughout the night, Garreth spoke amicably with everyone seated next to him at the bar. He’d sip at his drink as he took casual glances your way. You had been talking with that blockhead all night, smiling at him, acting smitten. He hid it well, but it was sending him up the wall.

He caught that you finally said goodbye to the man and took your leave. He downed the last of his drink and left after you. He could probably blame it on the alcohol in his system, but in truth, it was just how crazy you made him. 

Coming up behind you, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a dark, nearby alleyway. 

“Hey! Garreth, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?" You took rapid glances around to make sure no one could see you two.

Pinning you between him and the wall, he pressed himself against you. You were taken aback, but immediately compliant. You looked up at him as he put a firm hold on your neck, feeling the chain of your necklace under his fingers. 

A thrilling sensation coursed through you and you were eager to see what he would do next, ignoring all the screaming voices in your head to not let it go any further. 

He leaned down and bit at your bottom lip, then placed his forehead against yours. “Trying to replace me?”

You didn’t respond, only looked into his darkened eyes with yours as your breathing picked up. Keeping his hand on your throat, he slid his free hand down the front of your pants, immediately going for your folds. 

“Go ahead. Just try.” He moved his fingers against your slit and greedily took your lips with his.

You kissed him back with just as much hunger, but you got yourself to turn away and push feebly at his chest. “Garreth… We can’t -” A whimper escaped you at his touch, and he plunged his first finger into you.

“I had to watch you with him all night.” He spoke in a low tone next to your ear. 

You bit your lip and your hands slid up from his chest to grip his shoulders. He took that as his chance to slip another finger in.

“Does he know what’s around your neck?” His fingers moved faster. “Hm?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wanting to slap him, but also wanting him to continue taking you as he was.

“Fuck, I like the way you’re looking at me.” He breathed. He had never taken control like this before, and it was a power trip he never knew he wanted to experience. 

Your breathing was becoming shallow as he kept up his movements. “Don’t stop.” You panted in his ear as you threw your arms around him, holding him even closer.

“I’ll stop when I want to stop.”

The combination of his rough fingers and the way he was speaking had you delirious, the fire in your abdomen now an inferno. You were a furnace completely at his mercy and it was everything.

When your heavy breathing melted into moans, Garreth shifted back a bit, moving the hand that was on your throat and placing it over your mouth. “Keep fucking quiet.” He commanded in a hushed tone. But his fingers moved faster within you, almost challenging himself to get you to scream out.

He glanced down at his hand in your pants then back up to your face, and caught your half-lidded, pleasure filled eyes. His knees nearly buckled at the sight, but he stood strong. He could tell you were close, and more than anything he wanted to get you there, be the only person who ever did for the rest of your lives.

Your eyes began to roll into the back of your head and he removed his hand from your mouth, capturing your lips with his. He was going to swallow every cry and mewl he got out of you.

When your walls stopped contracting over his fingers, he slowly slid them out of you. His hands went to your hips and he rested his forehead against yours. As you caught your breath, the two of you had left your hate-fuck filled state and somehow shifted to something else.

“Tell me you still love me.” He exhaled, trying to stay steady. “Tell me you still love me like I love you.”

You took in his freckles with him being this close, just like you had always done. “Of course I still love you. You’re all I have left.”

His throat constricted. “Then why did you leave?”

Your arms snaked around his shoulders. “Garreth…”

“You didn’t even leave a note.” He shook his head slightly, the tears began to sting at his eyes. “You left me with nothing. We could have figured something out. We could have -”

You pulled his head down to your shoulder, cradling him there. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight to him.

“Please just… tell me why you left without giving me a chance. I know I didn’t deserve it. I know that. But I have to know what was going through your head.”

You let out a shaky breath, keeping your own tears at bay. “There wasn’t a place for me there.”

He tightened his hold on you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“It didn’t feel like my home anymore. That house was for you and your family.”

“You were my family.” He argued against your neck. “We were going to get married.”

“But we weren’t yet. And you had a baby on the way, Garreth.” You sighed. “I thought about coming back so many times. I did once.”

Garreth pulled back slightly, furrowing his brows and meeting your eyes. “When?”

“About a year after I left.” You admitted. “Your aunt had passed and I wanted to visit her grave. Told myself I was going to let you go and give you back the ring while I was at it. Then I saw you sitting outside your house holding little Matilda.” You smiled a bit thinking back on it. “You looked tired, but so happy. I felt like I’d only intrude, so I left.”

Garreth thought about it, and he didn’t know what he’d do if you decided to meet with him. He had come to terms with it all by then, marrying Victoria, having Matilda, losing you. He might have been able to stand tall. But then again, he went mad just seeing your picture in the Daily Prophet for the first time.

“And the ring? After all this time?”

You shook your head. “I can’t seem to let you go.”

You held each other in the alley like lovesick teenagers who snuck out in the night. He kissed you then, but without the aggression or urgency. For the first time since he’d had you in his arms again, his lips were tender on yours.

-

Just like it had when you were seeing each other over a decade ago, time seemed to fly by. Months had passed since he began sneaking away to see you, taking a quick floo to your hut and locking yourselves away for a few stolen moments. Moments where you two would be entwined. He’d be on top of you, under you, any position he could manage while he was inside you. Sometimes you’d make love, sometimes you’d fuck. It was all perfect to him. 

That potions shop keeper is having an affair with the beasts professor at Hogwarts. Garreth imagined people around Hogsmeade would say. But your meetups were the best kept secret he had ever had. No one ever suspected a thing.

Sure it was a bit thrilling to have secrets, but all that mattered was that he had you again. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

Except for maybe a divorce. He felt awful running around on Victoria as he was. She was a fine wife, a fine mother. But he hadn’t felt that spark of life he always had with you. The moment he saw you standing in person before him again, he knew his marriage was over. He had nothing more to offer her.

It had weighed heavily on Garreth. Separating wouldn’t exactly be easy to do legally, or cheap. But he’d push through, whatever it took to get the life he had been aching for since the moment you left. 

He hadn’t touched Victoria since you came back. She had tried, and he’d been dismissive. Even spending a good amount of his nights sleeping at the shop. She had sensed his distance easily, and eventually gave up on trying. He hoped she found a lover too.

He’d go easy on Matilda and break the news to her when the time came. He reasoned her being away at Hogwarts a majority of the year now would give her enough space from it all. There was never a good time for parents to separate, only the sooner the better at this point.

-

Matilda hadn’t attended beasts class that day. You would assume she was out sick, but something felt off. Every time she was sick she would still make her way to beasts class, and you’d always have to tell her she could catch up after hours and to go get some rest. But she hadn’t even shown up that day, and it set all your alarm bells off.

“You’re not in trouble, I promise you.” You assured the student you overheard mentioning her name. “Just tell me where she said she’d be.”

“W - Well, she mentioned a place called Henrietta’s Hideout? Hideaway? Said she needed to find a runaway niffler.”

Your blood had gone cold. Henrietta’s Hideaway was beyond dangerous for anyone, let alone a child. It had been riddled with traps and dark wizards when you and Garreth went exploring there, when you were particularly young and stupid. “Are you sure?”

The student nodded his head, clearly nervous. 

You turned on your heel, immediately heading to the nearest floo.

-

Matilda felt in her gut coming to Henrietta’s Hideaway would be dangerous, but she ignored that feeling and ventured forth anyway. The thought of leaving Agnes Coffey’s pet niffler to roam here and get killed made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t sit by and let it be. She couldn’t.

She had managed to find the niffler, Rococo, but getting back out alive was starting to feel impossible. There were traps everywhere, and she didn’t know how to cast disillusionment on anything else other than herself. Rococo would give her away to the surrounding dark wizards for certain.

As she stood there, hiding herself and cradling the niffler in her arms, her hope slipped away every time she peeked around the corner. Each time it seemed like the amount of dark wizards lurking around went up. She let herself panic, but she didn’t let herself cry.

She startled when she started to hear spell blasts. Hearing the alarm in the dark wizards’ voices as they started casting spells back, Matilda held tight to the niffler and slid down the wall she was leaning against. She was finally starting to feel like the child she was. 

She needed to get out of there, she needed her father. He could save her, he always had. She squeezed her eyes shut and closed out the world around her, the tears started to come then.

Because her fear had taken over, she didn’t even notice when everything went quiet. She continued to hold tight to the whining niffler and keep her eyes closed when you approached.

“Matilda? Matilda, it’s me. Everything’s alright now. Come with me, dear.” You knelt to her level and spoke in a hushed tone. 

She slowly looked up hearing your voice, her eyes widening. Letting herself sob then, she threw an arm around you while still holding tight to the niffler. 

She threw you off balance slightly but you kept upright and held her back. “I got you.” You soothed and slowly brought both of you to your feet. “Let’s get going.” You pulled back, keeping a hold on her shoulders. You looked into her eyes, trying to get her steady again. “I need that Gryffindor bravery, alright?” You gave her a reassuring smile.

She wiped at her eyes quickly and gave you a firm nod. “A - Alright.”

The two of you moved forward out of Henrietta’s Hideaway. You tried to remember what the trap mechanisms looked like when you were there back in your school days. Dark Wizards you could handle. Nearly invisible traps? Those could sneak up on anyone.

You and Matilda caught sight of the entrance and she was immediately filled with optimism and relief. “There!” She shouted and began sprinting. 

“Matilda, slow down!” You called, keeping up with her as best you could.

You caught it at the last second. The tile Matilda stepped on made a clicking sound, and sank just slightly under the pressure of her foot.

“Matilda!” You shouted and shoved her out of the way. You weren’t sure what the trap being set off would do, but something moved into your abdomen, a strong pressure hitting you immediately. It didn’t hurt at first, but it had a solid hold on you. You couldn’t move. Then whatever was in your abdomen slipped out, the blood and the pain started to come. It was a spike, triggered by the plate Matilda had stepped on.

The realization started to kick in then. You did your best to keep your breathing even and not scare Matilda. This was it. This was the misstep that got you, wasn’t it? You could feel it. You weren’t going to be alive after today.

“Matilda.” You began as calmly as you could. “Go… Go get your father. He can help me, he’ll know what to do.” You sat down on the ground, clutching your stomach, slowing the bleeding to buy yourself time. “Watch your step as you go.”

Matilda was scared seeing your wound bleeding as harshly as it was, but she was able to stand strong at your handling of it. You were her hero after all. Of course you could handle something like this, no problem. She nodded her head vigorously and ran out.

You tried to keep your breathing even, last long enough to see Garreth one last time.

-

“Dad!” Matilda burst through the shop door. Garreth caught her panic in an instant and didn’t hesitate to run up to her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he looked her over quickly, ignoring the niffler in her arms. 

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” He cupped her cheek when he noticed some of the scrapes on her face. “Let me get a wiggenweld.” He turned to get it but she grabbed his wrist.

“No time! It’s Professor Y/N. I - I was at Henrietta’s Hideaway and she helped get me out of there. She saved me from a trap but she’s hurt, dad. She - She said to get you. Said you’d be able to help.”

Garreth’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring. Henrietta’s Hideaway? “What in Merlin’s name were you doing all the way out there?!” Not waiting for her answer, he ran for the door. “Wiggenweld! Now!” He snapped before he was out of sight and at the nearest floo flame. As soon as he returned with you, he’d give Matilda an earful.

-

Garreth called your name as he carefully stepped into the hideaway. It had been so long since the two of you had explored there. He had no doubt it was still as dangerous as it was back then, the both of you had barely made it out in one piece even with how capable the two of you were.

He heard you cough. He turned your direction and his heart dropped at the sight.

You were sitting on the ground in a pool of blood, back up against a rock, hand clutched over your abdomen attempting to stop the bleeding. Garreth strode up and knelt before you. “We have to get you out of here.” He swallowed thickly once he got a closer look at the wound and noticed the loss of color in your skin. A sickening thought took hold of him. 

Are you dying?

“No, I -” You hissed in pain. “I’m not going to make it out of here, Gar.” 

He had never heard your voice so weak, dread started to set in. No, you’re not dying. You survive everything. You can’t die. “We’ve got to try. I can carry you.”

He wanted to scream when you only shook your head at him. “Be with me.” You reached for his hand.

His nostrils flared, his breathing starting to come out uneven as he tried to shove the panic down. “I’m getting you to St. Mungo’s.” As carefully as he could, he attempted to lift you. But your cries of pain stopped him. He shifted just enough so he was on the ground with you, holding you in his arms, your blood coating his clothes. The helplessness he felt was crippling.

“Tell me what to do.” He pleaded. “You always have a plan. Tell me what I need to do.” Garreth was crumbling, the pieces of him falling too quickly to catch.

You rested your head against his chest and looked up at him as he looked around the cave frantically. “Be with me. Please, Gar.”

He shook his head. “I just got you back.” His voice cracked, his throat constricting. “Please… Please don’t leave me. I can’t do it. I can’t lose you again.”

You weakly reached up and tugged at your necklace. “You never lost me.”

Garreth looked down at the ring he gave you and the tears stung at his eyes, ready to fall. You let go of the necklace and cupped his cheek, looking at him with so much love, he didn’t feel worthy of any of it. 

He reached up and held your hand against his cheek. “You saved my girl.” He whispered, more grateful than you’d ever know.

“You know me. Always have to be the hero.” You quipped, your voice so weak it nearly came out as a wheeze. “I wish we met in first year.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding his head, tears falling.

“It was always you, Gar.”

He shifted you in his arms, holding you tighter. “And it was always you.”

“You and me.” You smiled, your voice getting quieter.

“You and me.”

As you looked up at him and he looked back down at you, you seemed to stop breathing, seemed to go perfectly still. He said your name, but no response. He said it one more time, waiting for something, anything at all. But nothing. 

He pulled you up more against him, resting his cheek against the top of your head, and let the rest of the tears come. 

Come back to me. 

Come back to me. 

Come back to me.

-

The day of your funeral, he’d barely been able to speak, his voice would betray him each time. Nobody expected him to speak much anyway. After all, who was he to you? He wasn’t blood, he wasn’t your husband. At most he was an old friend, as far as everyone knew. No one would ever know what he truly was to you, would they? If he thought he felt loss when you left him all those years ago, it was nothing compared to what he felt then.

You were gone, for good this time. The permanence of it made his chest ache with an unbearable emptiness. It seemed every breath he took, he needed to guide himself through it. In, out. In, out. In, out.

Even after everyone left, he remained with your grave. As he stood there, looking down at your tombstone, he realized this was all he could have with you for the rest of his life. 

He tried to think about your smile, your laugh, picture you there still with him. But as soon as he’d fall into the memory, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him it wasn’t real. Then your laugh in his head went silent, and he’d be brought back to reality in front of your tombstone.

Someone had walked up and looked down at your grave with him. “Seems I’m late.”

Garreth glanced up briefly and saw Sebastian Sallow beside him, looking down uneasily. “Afraid so.” 

He had never liked Sallow. The lad would be fine in Garreth’s eyes if he hadn’t been so hopelessly in love with you back at Hogwarts. He had been sane before you showed up, but as soon as you arrived, something about you drove the poor fool mad. He had to stop him from following you around and begging you to reconsider your rejection too many times to count.

“Merlin, this can’t be real. She was supposed to outlive us all.” He whispered in disbelief. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

Garreth blinked away the memory, trying to get the image of your bloody, lifeless form in his arms out of his head. “Not long before she passed. You?”

“I’d say about five years ago. Last I saw her, she was walking out my door, breaking my heart once again.”

Garreth wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he asked anyway. “You two…?” 

Sebastian glanced up at him, then looked back down with a shake of his head. “Not really. I mean we tried for a while. But she was never able to love me like I loved her.” Sebastian let out a shaky sigh. “Untameable that one.”

Garreth could only nod his head. That you were.

“I really thought I had a chance after you.” Sebastian huffed humorlessly. “But if it wasn’t going to be you, I don’t think it was going to be anybody.”

Garreth swallowed the lump in his throat and knew it was time to be alone. He gave Sebastian’s shoulder a cordial pat as he passed. “Good seeing you again, Sallow.”

-

Garreth sat before the fire, and let himself wallow in his own whiskey fueled pity. How many times had he let you down throughout knowing each other? How many times had he failed you when you two were right on track to live happily ever after?

There was nothing he could do now, was there? The only thing left to do was mourn. So he thought back on his life with you again. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could see you again in his dreams tonight.

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (yandere Juyeon and Chanhee) 6k, yandere, camgirl reader, voyeurism, alcohol, non-con, dub-con, restraints, sex toys, handcuffs, rope, ball gag, glass dildo, tentacle dildo, oral (female receiving), fingering, double penetration, dirty talk, manipulation (@starillusion13)

“Happy Giving Sunday!”

You smiled towards the camera, although your face couldn’t be seen. Your viewers could see the joy in your eyes though.

“For those of you who are new here, giving Sunday is when I open a package I’ve received from one of my lovely subscribers. Sometimes you send me love letters, or clothing, or toys, so let’s see what we get today.”

You got up and out of view off camera, going into your closet and grabbing a medium size box. You grabbed a box cutter before sitting back down in front of the camera, showing off the box without accidentally showing any personal information. You had a PO box for gifts, but you didn’t want to expose anyone.

“Alright, this seems to be from user TheBoyz98. Let’s see what’s inside!”

Most times there was a letter inside every package, and you always skimmed through it to make sure it was appropriate to share.

“A letter! It reads, ‘to my dearest CandyDoll, I’ve been a long time fan and avid watcher. I hope this gift finds its way to you safely, and when you use it I ask that you think of me. Your adoring fan, TheBoyz98.’ Thank you, thank you. It sounds like you got me a toy, so now I’m very excited to see what it is.”

You put the letter off to the side and looked into the box. You were quite intrigued by what you saw, sharing a knowing glance at the camera before revealing the gift. You showed the glass tentacle dildo to everyone.

“This is awesome! Some temp play, mixed with monster fucking. I like it. Although I must admit I’m a bit sad it’s not an ovipositor.” You laughed. “Guess that just gave you all some ideas. Anyway, since this is a toy, it’s only fair I give it a test. TheBoyz98, are you in the chat with us?”

“Always.”

“Nice to see you. Thank you so much for the gift! I shall use it wisely.”

You moved up closer to the camera, partially hiding your face so you could pull down your mask and run your tongue along the dildo. You shivered in delight.

“That feels very nice, but it’ll feel better somewhere else.”

You got up and grabbed a cushion from your bed. At the moment the camera could only see your legs, but your audience were surely more than happy to watch as your skirt and panties came off. You set down the cushion and took a seat, keeping your legs closed for the moment. You wanted to tease them a bit before showing them the goods. You ran your hands down your body, slipping one down between your legs as you spread them open, letting everyone see you in all your glory. You ran your fingers up and down your folds, moaning and throwing your head back. All you needed to do was prep yourself cause what came next was what everyone was waiting for.

You knew your body well, so when you were ready you grabbed the dildo. You held it up to the camera, showing it off before placing it at your entrance. You slowly pushed it into you, being loud and voicing what you were feeling. The coldness of the glass was certainly a new sensation, and the shape certainly let your imagination run wild. You pushed the dildo into you up to the base, letting yourself rest there for a moment. You moved your hand away, letting the camera catch how the dildo slightly moved around as you adjusted to it. After a while you grabbed the toy and started to fuck yourself with it.

You did your best to put on a show, not losing yourself completely and accidently exposing your identity. You described your feelings to the audience, telling them how good it felt. Your voice started to crack though as you edge closer to climax. A lot of your viewers loved the way your voice got when you were close, so you kept rambling as your breathing grew uneven and words got difficult to pronounce. It was more effort just to keep going so you wouldn’t ruin your own orgasm and actually give the viewers what they wanted. You screamed out as you pushed yourself over the edge, falling to the ground and twitching a bit as your body shook with pleasure.

“Oh fuck… that was a whole new sensation… thank you very much for that TheBoyz98.”

You stayed where you were for a while longer, catching your breath and regaining your strength. Once you were good you crawled over to the camera, toy still in you, well aware your breasts were in full view of the camera.

“Thank you all for tonight. I hope you had fun and made a mess of your own.” You giggled. “So clean up and I’ll see you all next time. Bye bye! This is CandyDoll signing off.”

You winked to the camera before shutting it off. You made sure the recording had ended and triple checked everything, turning off your microphone and laptop, putting it all away before letting yourself truly relax and removing your mask. The dildo was still inside, and so you removed it, setting it to the side. Like you said, you made a mess and needed to clean up before you went to bed. Tonight was another good night, and you’d check on your earnings tomorrow morning. This was such a fun job.

🖤

“Fuck, that was hot.”

Juyeon leaned back in his chair, taking in a deep breath. He certainly had a mess all over himself, but right now he just wanted to enjoy himself. Of course he wasn’t alone though.

“I still can’t believe you sent her something.” Juyeon commented. “I didn’t know you’d be into that shit, Chanhee.”

“I wanted her to fuck herself with something I got her, and played with myself.”

“Fucken whore.”

“I cleaned it… anyway, you’re just jealous.”

“Maybe.” Juyeon chuckled. “What’s an ovipositor?”

“No idea. Now come on, we have to clean up and get to bed. We have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Usually I’d hate that, but it’s spring break and I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

Chanhee and Juyeon were roommates in their college dorm, having known each other since freshman year. They hit it off immediately and became good friends, the type to watch porn together and jerk each other off when the mood arises. For a while Chanhee had kept up with the camgirl CandyDoll and figured Juyeon would enjoy the show too. Now it was certainly something they both did together.

For spring break they had agreed on going to see a friend of theirs, a senior of theirs who mentored them and had graduated last year. He had a cabin out by the lake and offered them to come over to enjoy camp activities over break. Most people wanted to go to a beach and party like crazy but the idea of some peace and quiet sounded way better to them. So after cleaning themselves up, and their dorm, they went to bed. They woke to an alarm at sunrise, getting their things and heading out. They’re friend, Sangyeon, would meet them on the outskirts of the campgrounds, so they just had to catch a bus to the suburbs. 

Juyeon took a little nap on the bus ride, Chanhee waking him up when they arrived. As soon as they got off and the bus pulled away their attention was drawn to a car horn. They looked over to see Sangyeon across the street, waving at them. The boys smiled and made their way over to their friend, excited to spend some time together and catch up. They loaded their bags into the car and were soon on the road again.

“It’s great to see you again.” Chanhee commented. “How’s the graduated life?”

“Not as bad as I thought, but getting a job was something else.”

“But you got one.”

“Yes I do. What about you guys? How were midterms?”

“Don’t even get me started.” Juyeon whined. “I felt like my head was gonna explode.”

“He’s not lying.” Chanhee added. “He got a few nosebleeds while studying.”

“Well I’m glad to know you’re taking your studies seriously.”

“Of course, and now I’m ready to just relax by the lake and not have to worry about classes.”

“There’s plenty of things to do to wind down, so you’ll be good.”

It was a short drive to the cabin, and the boys were rather impressed by the sight. They got their things and followed Sangyeon inside.

“I made you guys breakfast.” “Dude, seriously, how can you afford this place?” Juyeon asked. “It’s awesome.”

“Well, technically it’s not mine.”

“Oh, you rent it?”

“No, no, this place belongs to my sister.”

“You sister?” Chanhee questioned. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned her before.”

“She’s annoying and keeps to herself most of the time, so no real reason to mention her.”

“Then what does she do to afford this?”

“Some online stuff. I’m not sure, she won’t tell me.”

“Are you talking about me?”

The three looked over to see a girl walking into the room, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was dressed in purple pajama pants with a matching long sleeve. Although Juyeon couldn’t help but notice the lack of a bra and quickly averted his gaze.

“Morning sleepy head.” Sangyeon commented. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

“Well, y’all were making noise.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Kidding. I smelled food.”

“Breakfast is on the table.”

“I know. Who are your friends?”

“Ah, right. Y/n, this is Juyeon and Chanhee, guys, this is my sister y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” Chanhee greeted. “I’m told this place is yours. So thank you for allowing us to spend our spring break here.”

“No problem. Just stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Juyeon added. “Nice meeting you.”

“Let’s all eat.”

You made your way over to the dining room, the rest of the boys following at their own pace. You took a seat and started filling your plate. Sangyeon had mentioned he’d have guests over and you didn’t mind as you mostly kept to yourself. They could have their fun and you wouldn’t bother them either. You were mostly quiet at the table, letting them talk and catch up, but of course your present couldn’t go unnoticed.

“Y/n, if I might I ask.” Chanhee stated. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I just work from home doing online tasks. Kinda like a receptionist.”

“It must pay well.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Is this just like a summer home, or do you live here?”

“I’m here all year round. I like the quiet, and I’m not too far from civilization.” 

“Good choice.”

“Thanks. And you two are still in school?”

“Yup, we should be graduating next year.”

“That’s great. I wish you all the best. Now I promise not to bother you guys, so just enjoy yourselves.” You got up from the table, putting your dishes in the sink. “Oh, Sangyeon, did you pick up my packages?”

“Yeah, they’re in the car.”

“Awesome, thanks!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The boys watched you go, knowing you didn’t want to hang around with them. This was more of a guys vacation. Now that you were gone, Juyeon could relax a bit more.

“Was the lack of a bra really that distracting?” Chanhee questioned.

“So you knew!?”

“And? You didn’t have to be weird about it. This is her place, she could walk around naked for all I care. I’m just a guest here.”

“Dude!”

“That’s the last thing I want to see from my sister.” Sangyeon commented. 

“Right. That’d probably annoy you like crazy.”

“Yeah, so just behave. Don’t break shit or wander off, easy enough, right?”

“Absolutely.”

After breakfast the boys cleaned up and Sangyeon showed them their rooms. While unpacking Chanhee realized he was missing a few things and went out to the car to get them. That’s when he saw you fumbling with some boxes, immediately going over to help.

“Easy there, you can make two trips.”

“More like four. I got a decent amount of packages.”

“You must order a lot of things.”

“You could say that.” 

“I can help you bring them in, I don’t mind.”

“Oh, that’d be great. Could you grab some out the back and bring them up to my room.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Chanhee went to the car, grabbing some boxes for you when something caught his attention. These packages were all addressed to a PO box, and he recognized it because he had sent a package there before. His eyes went wide with possibilities, but he had to tell himself it was just a coincidence. He took what he could, going up to your room. You thanked him again and had him set them down by the closet saying you’d put them away once you got them all. You went back down and Chanhee remained in your room for a moment. He thought he was crazy but this place kind of looked familiar. He walked around a bit, but nothing stood out to him.

Before you came back he quickly left, and when you saw him you informed him that you got the last of the packages and that he was such a gentleman for helping. He kept his cool and went to get his own things from the car. He stayed in his room for a moment, lost in thought when Juyeon came in to check on him. The boy was immediately worried when his friend was unresponsive and looked out of it. He took a seat next to him on the bed, gently touching his arm to get his attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I’m not sure…”

“What happened?”

“This is gonna sound crazy.”

“I bet.”

“I think Sangyeon’s sister is CandyDoll.”

Juyeon broke out into laughter, grabbing his stomach and rolling around the bed. Chanhee just ignored him, already annoyed.

“And you said I was being weird cause she wasn’t in a bra. What kinda idea is that!?”

“I’m serious.”

“There’s no way that girl is CandyDoll. How would you even know?”

“I was helping her with her packages when I noticed they went to a PO box, the one I sent the gift for CandyDoll too.”

“Don’t multiple people use the same PO box or something? Was there a name on it?”

“No, well, I didn’t see one. All the names were blacked out, CandyDoll tells us to put whatever as the name when we send things, she’ll figure it out.”

“So you’re being delusional.”

“I’m telling you I think it’s her. When I saw her room it kinda looked familiar.”

“That doesn’t mean shit. I’d love to meet CandyDoll but I doubt she’s here with us. So how about we forget this and not be weirdos. Sangyeon would kick us out if he heard any of this. What kind of friends think their sister is a camgirl?”

“You’re right.”

“Let’s just enjoy our vacation. Now come on, I want to go swimming in the lake.”

“Alright, I’ll be right out.”

“Cool.”

That idea wasn’t something he should dwell on, so he put it aside and focused on relaxing. He got into some swim trunks and went out with Juyeon. Sangyeon joined them a while later and the three cooled off together, talking about the future and what they want to do. As promised you were nowhere to be seen, letting them enjoy the great outdoors. Sangyeon would take you some food, knowing you mostly stayed in your room even when their weren’t guests around. It definitely felt like a guys weekend. Which also meant they were responsible for cooking and cleaning after themselves. While throwing out the trash Juyeon noticed a bunch of boxes folded up. It wasn’t entirely strange until he noticed the doodles on it. His eyes went wide and he grabbed a box to further examine it.

“Chanhee!”

Juyeon went off to find his friend, bursting into his room as he was changing clothes. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before but it startled Chanhee nonetheless.

“What the hell!”

“You were right.”

“About what?”

“CandyDoll.”

“Huh?”

“Come here. I gotta show you something.”

“Let me get some clothes first.”

After dressing, Chanhee followed Juyeon out to the back where the trash was. The boy grabbed a box and pointed at the drawings, a lollipop and a stick figure.

“What am I looking at?”

“Think about it, what do we call lollipops?”

“Candy… and dolls look like people, oh my gosh.”

“Yeah.”

“No way, it can’t be.”

“We gotta check her room.”

“Are you crazy? What if we’re wrong? You told me not to get ideas in my head.”

“Yeah, that’s when I thought you were wrong. CandyDoll could be upstairs, we need to investigate.”

“How would we even do that? She stays in her room all the time, and what would looking through her things do?”

“You said she got a lot of packages, if we open one we’ll probably find a sex toy or lingerie, and most likely a letter addressed to CandyDoll.”

“And if we don’t? How do we explain ourselves?”

“With apologies. We’re gonna need alcohol.”

“Juyeon, what are you planning?”

“If she’s CandyDoll then we can’t waste this chance. Let’s get Sangyeon wasted and then go up to her room. One of us can distract her while the other checks her things.”

“Juyeon-”

“The idea of fucking CandyDoll myself is making hard. And I see a tent in your pants too. Mister tryna be the voice of reason.”

“Shut up.”

“Look, let’s have some drinks, and we can use the drunk excuse for whatever happens next.”

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And you’d hate yourself forever if your favorite camgirl was in arms reach and you didn’t fuck her. You sent her a damn toy, you want her bad.”

“Fine! But we gotta be discreet, if we get caught I’m throwing you under the bus.”

“As long as you’re onboard I’m good.”

Even if they weren’t at a beach somewhere, drinking heavily was always the plan, and Sangyeon knew this, so there was plenty of alcohol around. The three gathered around a campfire outside, roasting hot dogs and telling spooky stories. Both Juyeon and Chanhee kept filling up Sangyeon’s cup while drinking in moderation. With all the talking and good times the drinking just kept going. Sangyeon wound up sentimental, telling the two boys how proud of them he was. He didn’t think he’d do well with the mentor thing, but they were doing good and he was still in touch so he could check in and see their progres. The two thanked him for the invite to a cool place where it was just them. After the sobbing Sangyeon passed out, Juyeon catching him before he hit his head.

“I didn’t know he was a drunk crier.”

“He’s very funny and cute.” Chanhee mentioned. “Let’s get him to his room.”

The two carried Sangyeon back to the cabin, getting him to his room and making sure he’d be alright. Now it was time for their plan. Chanhee was to be the distraction, showing interest in your career and hopefully getting you out of your room for a bit. Juyeon hid around the corner, watching as Chanhee knocked. There was no response. He tried again, but nothing. It was possible you were already sleeping, and curiosity got the best of Chanhee. He carefully grabbed the doorknob and turned it, realizing your room was unlocked. He carefully peeked his head inside, hearing the sound of running water. You had a private bathroom connected to your room and were currently showering.

“Now’s our chance.”

Juyeon had made his over when he saw Chanhee peeking into your room, realizing the same thing. He pushed past his friend and went into the room, looking around. He had a familiar feeling too, but he was more focused on proving his suspicions.

“Where are the packages?”

“Closet.”

The two opened the closet, seeing a bunch of boxes piled up in the corner. Juyeon grabbed one and ripped the tape off. After removing the tissue paper he was met with a shocking surprise. A dildo with a peppermint pattern. There was a note inside as well and in someone’s handwriting it said ‘for CandyDoll’. Juyeon showed the note to Chanhee.

“Guess who’s showering.”

“No fucken way… what do we do?”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

You screamed when you stepped out of the bathroom, finding Sangyeon’s friends in your room. Thankfully you had wrapped a towel around yourself, but this was insane regardless.

“What are you doing in my room!?”

“It really is you.”

“Huh? I don’t care, get out!”

“You shouldn’t be rude to your fans.” Juyeon pouted. “We’re still in shock over here.”

“What are you talking about? Just get out!”

“It’s us.” Chanhee stated. “TheBoyz98, we’re big fans. I know meeting each other wasn’t something that was ever really supposed to happen but this is incredible.”

“Yeah, you’re like a wet dream come true.”

“I… I don’t understand what you’re talking about…”

“You don’t have to be shy with us.” Juyeon assured. “We’re not creeps or anything like that, this is just a happy accident.”

“Please get out.”

“We know you’re CandyDoll.” Chanhee said. “I figured it out from your packages, you know since I sent you that glass tentacle dildo, and after opening one of the other boxes, well… it’s truly an honor. You’re a fantasy and just, wow, I can’t believe it’s you.”

“You’re fucken crazy, both of you. Sangyeon! Sangyeon!”

“He can’t hear you right now.” Juyeon mentioned. “He’s out cold from all the alcohol. We just wanna talk, really.”

You didn’t trust either of them, nor did you like the situation you were in. If Sangyeon was out of the picture then you really had only one option. You bolted for the bathroom, but it seemed the other two understood your intentions. They both ran after you, Chanhee managing to snatch your arm and pull you back, allowing Juyeon to get a hold of you as well. The two dragged you over to the bed, Juyeon keeping you pinned down while Chanhee found something to restrain you with. Of course he just had to look under the bed and find your hidden chest, opening it up to find exactly what he needed.

Your hands were cuffed behind your back and your legs bound together. For the time being the towel remained on, but you knew it was a temporary mercy. There was no point screaming for your brother as he wasn’t going to be able to help. Once you were properly restrained Chanhee crawled into bed, gently grabbing your face in order to get a better look at you. He called you beautiful, commenting on your eyes since that’s all he ever saw before. Now that he could see you up close he was really certain it was you. Even though you weren’t gagged you didn’t speak, not wanting to give them anything. Which they took badly.

“We’re seriously not creeps.” Juyeon said, getting on the bed as well. “This is just the best coincidence ever. There’s no reason to be shy, it’s not like we haven’t seen your body before. Your face is the new part.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to meet your fans?” Chanhee asked. “We’ve seen all your videos and love what you do. You’re such a good stress relief.”

“I’ve always wanted to ask, are you a virgin? Like toys is one thing, but an actual cock, could we be your first?” Your eyes went wide. “Oh, you don’t have actual experience with a man, do you?”

You started moving away from them, only to be grabbed and this time the towel was removed. Your hair was still wet, so the lack of a towel made you shiver from the cold. You were also uncomfortable as your hands were beneath you and cuffed. The boys seemed to notice so Chanhee went back into your toy chest. He got another pair of cuffs, placing it on one wrist and unlocking the other. He and Juyeon each grabbed the other end of your cuffed arms, locking you to the headrest. This wasn’t any better, and you tried pulling up your legs to make yourself small, but Juyeon grabbed your legs and pulled them down.

“Let’s play, please, all I want to do is fuck you. Watching you isn’t always enough. I want to hear everything in person and feel your insides for myself. Please, please, please.” Juyeon begged. “I’ll be so good I promise.”

Juyeon began placing kisses on your exposed skin, being sweet and soft like a gentleman but this situation didn’t match his demeanor. Chanhee’s hands ran along your side, making you flinch away, causing him to chuckle. He couldn’t help himself, his hands reaching over to hold your breasts, massaging them lightly.

“They’re so soft. You’re really cute like this. You could never tie yourself up that well, but we can do it for you this time.”

“Don’t…”

“We’ll take care of you, I promise. We won’t hurt you.”

“This is hurting me…”

“Don’t be a bitch.” Juyeon hissed. “You literally use your body to make a bunch of people jerk off and spend money on you, just let yourself have some fun. When was the last time you had someone take care of you the way you deserve, huh? Who better to do it than your fans. We know what you’re like, how sensitive you can be, and we know how much you can take.”

“There were a few gags in the toy chest.” Chanhee added. “We can use one for now until you’re more into it.”

“Just stop! I don’t want this!”

“You just wait, you’ll change your tune soon enough.”

Chanhee did as he said, grabbing a ball gag and placing it on you despite your protests. You continued to squirm, but you were tied down well, and at their mercy. Juyeon’s fingers danced on your stomach, slowly making their way down to your center. You kept your legs closed together, not having much room to spread them anyway with the rope around your ankles, but that didn’t stop Juyeon. He forced his fingers between your legs, making you jump when he touched your core. A smile appeared on his face and he pried your legs apart as far they could while still restrained. His fingers ran along your folds, making you shiver.

“You’re wet.”

“That could be the fact she just got out of a shower.” Chanhee remarked. “Although we can fix that soon enough.”

Chanhee undid the rope around your ankles, letting Juyeon crawl up right between your legs. His fingers kept teasing you, and next thing you knew he was pushing one inside you. It made you tense up, completely unexpected. You had used your own fingers before, so you knew them well, and all your prep toys, but Juyeon was something new. He liked the reaction you made, teasing you a bit more before adding a second finger, and then a third. This stretch wasn’t anything new, but you kept glaring at Juyeon. His focus was more on watching how your cunt was sucking in his fingers, behaving so well for him despite how you felt.

While Juyeon prepped you Chanhee wanted to do his own thing. His attention was on your breasts, eventually taking one into his mouth and making you moan unwillingly. This type of stimulation was new to you. The wetness, the cold, the tingling sensation slowly growing and spreading. Your body was reacting to the stimulation, and you were helpless in stopping either of them. Chanhee sucked on both your nippels, leaving them wet and erect, placing kisses around the rest of your chest. At one point he grabbed Juyeon’s arm and pulled his fingers out of your cunt, sucking them to get a taste of you and groaning.

“She is a wet dream.”

By now your head was a bit dizzy from all the stimulation. You couldn’t do this much to yourself since you’d lose your senses before even getting yourself off. These two had no problem pushing you to your limits. The boys stripped out of their clothes, Chanhee getting on top of you and softly rocking his hips. Chanhee moaned to himself, already getting a hard on. His lips came down on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, sucking on the delicate skin to mark you.

“She’s still tight despite all the toys she’s played with.” Juyeon commented. “What if I’m not big enough for her?”

“Having doubts? I’m sure she’d still enjoy us, but perhaps we should be her first in something else.”

“Like what?”

“I bet she’s never had two cocks in her at once.”

“I love the way you think.”

You hadn’t even worked up to putting two toys in you, so hearing them suggest that certain put you on edge and cleared up some of the fog. You tried to retreat, but you had no room to move, and they both chuckled over your reaction. Chanhee once again assured you that they’d do right by you, but you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. Next thing you knew Juyeon buried his face between your legs, his tongue traveling along your folds and pushing inside you. Now that was a new sensation, as no toy could replicate the liveliness of another person’s tongue. You squirmed, pulling on your restraints, but that only encouraged Juyeon to continue his assault, moving to suck on your sensitive bud and practically bring you to climax.

He wouldn’t let that happen though, stopping short just when you were about to tip over the edge. You couldn’t help but whimper, making them both laugh again. In order for their little plan to work they couldn’t leave you tied up the way you were, so Chanhee uncuffed one of your arms, although he made sure you didn’t try anything funny. You were forced to sit up, having your hands cuffed back to the headboard afterwards. Juyeon was now lying beneath you and Chanhee had his hands on your hips, guiding you as you grinded against Juyeon’s cock, making him hard so he could push his length inside you. Your mind was lost in your pleasure, experiencing something for the first time, and before you knew it you felt something poking at your entrance.

Chanhee happily encouraged you, helping you get Juyeon get inside you, telling you how good of a girl you were being for them. You were pushed down onto Juyeon, taking him all in one go. You moaned into the gag, feeling a different stretch, feeling the warmth and throb. Once again Chanhee was moving your hips, your body reacting on its own, squeezing Juyeon and feeling the heat between your legs growing. It was a surprise you didn’t cum from the penetration alone, but they were nowhere near done with you. Chanhee kept his movements slow, dragging them out and keeping a firm hold on you so you couldn’t do as you pleased.

Juyeon was moaning, his hands trailing along your chest and grabbing at your breasts. You couldn’t help the drool, getting it all over yourself, and bits of it dripping down onto Juyeon’s chest. While all that was going on you could feel Chanhee’s cock up against your back, sliding up against your ass as he rocked your hips back and forth. He was incredibly patient but it was growing thin. With the way you were trembling he knew you were getting close, and he couldn’t waste his chance. He stopped your movements, placing a hand against your back and pushing you down, having you bend over for him. His fingers trailed along your center, seeing how it twitched with Juyeon’s cock inside.

“Hurry up already, I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself back.”

“Both of you better behave, or else.”

“You talking dirty doesn’t help your threat.”

Chanhee glared down at his friend, but he knew he was telling the truth. He dragged his hands down along your back, getting to your cunt and pushing in one of his fingers, giving you a little more prep before letting himself feel you. He added a second finger, loving the moan you made in the gag, knowing Juyeon was getting drool all over him. Your body was so focused on all the new feelings you were drowning in ecstasy. You were well past your limits now, limits you didn’t know you had. Chanhee was stretching you out some more before you felt the tip of his cock rubbing along your ass and pussy. When you felt him push in you threw your head back, swearing you saw white for a moment.

You thought they were going to break you, and yet your body managed to take them both. It took a moment to get situated, the two of them needing a moment to adjust to the feeling of being squeezed together inside of you. So many of your past videos came to mind, all the things they had seen you do for them, and now they could do something for you, and experience something wonderful all together. The boys gave you a little countdown that you barely paid attention to before they started moving. They got into their own rhythm, hitting your sweet spot everytime, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. They were in control, and all you could do was take every little bit of pleasure they gave you.

It was so much you weren’t entirely sure when you reached your climax, everything starting to blur together. All you knew was that you felt good, better than good, amazing actually. You felt a heat all over your body, their fingers electric wherever they touched. At some point the gag came off, your hands released from their cuffs allowing you to touch them and properly cry for their attention. You felt them both kiss at your lips and body, whispering such dirty things and sweet nothings. The first orgasm made you all the more sensitive to everything. You couldn’t verbalize your thoughts or feelings, merely making noises to let them know they were doing well. The warmth you eventually felt between your legs was unique, creating a sound you couldn’t have imagined while they kept thrusting into you.

Even if they could keep going, your body could only take so much before collapsing. Your world fading in and out, seeing their smiles and lust filled eyes in pieces. The feeling of euphoria never really left as you drifted between conscious and unconscious. You felt hands all over your body, lips as well, lighting a fire wherever they went. You didn’t know how many orgasms they got out of you, or how many times they satisfied themselves, but it only stopped when they were spent, lying beside you and sandwiching you between them. They pressed soft kisses against your head.

“Fuck, you were so good.” Chanhee mumbled. “We should do this again.”

“Kinda wish this was recorded.” Juyeon added. “Would wanna see it all again.”

“Nah, this is just for us, right y/n?”

“Hm…”

“We’ll clean up in the morning, promise. Just rest.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, closing your eyes and finally letting your body rest. There was going to be a lot to discuss come morning, but for now you were too exhausted to do anything besides melt into your bed. You slept deeply, not waking for anything, not even the knock at your door, but what came after certainly jolted you up.

“Sis…” Sangyeon opened the door to your room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and then froze at the sight before him. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

[absurdthirst]

The Bodyguard: My Protector {Dave York x F!Popstar!Reader}

Rating: Explict

Word Count: 18.5K

Warnings: Enemies to lovers? Teasing, angst, creepy photographers, controlling behavior, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, obsessed fans, stalking, violence, mentions of blood/blood broken bones, death, mentions of marking

Comment: As a pop star, you are being kept in the dark about the threats that surround you. Your security being led by Dave York, one of the best in the business. Driving you crazy as he restricts your freedom and still makes you burn for him.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

A/N: The mood board below is not meant to indicate the race or ethnicity of the reader. Mood board by @pedropascalsx

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

‘You speak to me. Through every word you sing. ‘Take my heart and cherish it forever, I’ve never known true love until you’. I know you wrote that for me. Baby, you know I would never do anything to hurt you. You are my world, my soul. I don’t understand why you didn’t see me last time, maybe your people were rushing you by too quickly? I screamed your name and told you it was me, but you just need to tell your people to let me in backstage. I can just wait for you there.’ 

“Jesus.” Dave slaps the copy of the rambling, startlingly concerning, letter down and sighs as he leans forward and reaches for the scotch bottle that he had hoped he wouldn’t need. “This 'Martin' sound fucking insane.” He snorts to himself. Resnick, his right hand man, was on his way downtown with the original copy, to take it to a lab that was willing to run an analysis on it. Dave York didn’t gain a reputation as one of the best bodyguards in the business by cutting corners or being sloppy. Now he’s protecting, you - one of the newest and hottest performers - and his gut feeling is that this person is fucking dangerous.

He’s doing it again, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes. The rest of the team are being let in on some secret he has clearly made them agree to keep from you. His eyes dart towards you a few times before he passes something to Resnick, and you have to fight the urge to stomp your feet, charge over there and find out what it is. He’s keeping something big from you and you’re not going to stand for it much longer.

“You keep your fucking eyes out.” His tone brokers zero room for error. “No one without a picture ID pass gets by you.” That had been one of the first new rules that he had implemented on your tour. There were pictures on every badge around everyone’s neck or they don’t get near you. He’s seen too much to risk it. “And you keep your fuckin’ mouths shut around her.” His job is to worry, your job is to get up on the stage and perform.

‘Asshole.’ You mouthed as you watched him order everyone around. Your father had insisted on hiring him about a year ago after an incident involving a ‘fan’ climbing over your  gate and somehow going undetected. Thankfully you were out of town visiting family, but seeing the security footage of him sleeping in your bed made you physically sick. After that day your father took control and hired Dave York. Signing every contract Dave produced without even discussing how much and how impacted your freedom would end up being.

You hated him. He was rude, demanding, controlling and the thing that made everything 100x worse? He was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. The competence and effortless way he captivated a whole room was mesmerising to watch. 

You found yourself riling him up on purpose on a few occasions just so you could secretly watch the way the material of his shirt would get all taunt across his strong shoulders and back. But most of all you wanted to hear the way his voice got raspier and raspier as he got angrier. The sound of his voice going straight to your core as dampening your panties as he cursed out your bratty behaviour.

Dave looks around the room, his eyes meeting every one of his team and he finally nods. “Okay.” He grunts, motioning them to leave. “Get the fuck out of here and do your jobs.” Every single man on his team had been carefully vetted by him and he only took the best. Men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if necessary and die when warranted. Some scoffed at the idea of dying for some pop star princess, and they had quickly gotten their pink slip.

“How am I getting to my photoshoot this afternoon?” you asked your PR manager who was furiously tapping on her phone screen, “I’m happy to drive myself.”

Dave walks up to you and the vapid woman who runs your PR. He swears that woman would sell your fucking soul for a good headline. He hears the end of your comment about driving yourself and chuckles. “Funny, princess.” He tells you dryly. “You’re not driving yourself anywhere. I’m taking you.” He doesn’t know what it is exactly, but you aren’t going anywhere without him.

You turn to face him and scoff, “No. You are not. I am fully capable of driving myself and I am not a princess.” The urge to storm away grows stronger but the look on his face tells you that he wouldn’t let you if you tried.

“Oh so US Magazine didn’t call you ‘this summer’s bonafide pop Princess’?” Dave taunts, rolling his eyes at how fucking immature you can be at times. He’s never had a grown ass woman so willing to fight him on *everything*. “You are capable of driving yourself, doesn’t mean you’re going to.”

“Didn’t realize you were such an avid reader of trashy magazines, Dave, you should have said! I would have signed a copy especially for you.” You counter back to his mocking. “I don’t need you to drive me, so I will be driving myself.”

Dave’s eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “Not today, princess.” He growls, his voice low enough to have most cautious men stepping back, but you aren’t a man and you aren’t cautious.

“You’ll have to take me kicking and screaming,” you grit out from behind your teeth. Your lack of freedom since Dave's takeover has started to really piss you off. If it isn’t him that’s always a stone's throw away it’s one of his goons and you’re tired of being treated like you're incapable of looking after yourself.

“I’m a grown woman, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Obviously you do.” Dave snorts, stepping closer to you and sending you a withering glare that would make most men cower. “Otherwise daddy wouldn’t have hired me.” It’s better that you hated him than started playing fast and loose with your safety. As much as he wants to drag you over his knee and spank your ass until you can’t sit down, he cares about your well-being. “Just…let me drive you. It’s my job.” He’s noticed you’re all woman, but he can’t think about that now.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth, “But I have to make a few stops on the way.” You hate the way your stomach twists at the way he’s looking at you. If you weren’t 100% convinced it was hatred you might have considered it was a hunger burning in those dark eyes. “And by the way my Daddy doesn’t tell me what to do.���

“No?” He quirks a brow up and gives a low chuckle, knowing your father controls everything to do with your life, including your career. “Too bad, although what you really need, I doubt your daddy would be up for giving you. He's too…soft to do it.”

You raise a brow to match the expression splashed across his face and take a small step forward until you’re toe to toe and ask him, “And what is it that I really need, Mr York?”

“A firm hand.” Dave smirks. “Applied liberally and quickly to the bottom of your spoiled ass.” He could get fired for talking to you this way, but you won’t. Your father wouldn’t allow it because he knows that Dave is needed, even if he keeps you in the dark on why.

“I’ll make sure to tell my next hook-up to pay special attention to that area just for you,” you reply with a sugary sweet smile. “We have to leave in an hour.”

Dave huffs, watching you turn and flounce off, trying to pretend that you didn’t get under his skin. You sleep with such pretty boys. None of them are even remotely capable of being able to protect you beyond making sure you don’t drop your purse. He huffs to himself, turning around and striding out towards the garage. He needs to make sure your SUV is ready for your little errands.

With less than an hour to get ready and get out of the door you bounced off to your bedroom and locked the door behind you. Resisting the urge to take care of the pulsing in your little bundle of nerves that had been steadily growing since he felt the need to involve himself in your discussion.

Instead you had a very quick shower, throwing on a quick outfit that was cheap and worn enough to not worry about it getting ruined in hair and make up and grabbed your purse before making your way back downstairs and towards the front door.

Dave is waiting for you when you come downstairs, on his phone and scrolling through the different emails that he has already sent to the lab about the letters. Another letter fired off to your publicity to screen all your mail and any more from that person should be brought to his attention immediately. Your popularity is growing and with it, the number of security threats.

“Let’s go,” you simply murmur at him as you push past the door and make your way towards the waiting car.

You slide into the passenger seat and immediately go to plug your phone into the aux cord.

Dave shakes his head, huffing under his breath. No matter how many fucking times he tells you, you refuse to sit in the back unless you are arriving at an event.

“Any requests?” you ask with a grin, knowing full well that he’s pissed at you for sitting in the front. Also remember I wanted to stop off somewhere first, I have a craving for a milkshake.”

“Yeah…” Dave shuts his door and grabs his seatbelt. “Move to the back and buckle your fucking seatbelt.” He knows you won’t, so he is already starting the engine.

“Temper temper, Mr. York,” you reply as you switch on a random playlist. You look at the window and watch as your house gets smaller and smaller as he makes his way towards the studio. “I have no idea what magazine this is for.” You admit and you start pulling at your sleeve.

“They didn’t tell you?” He asks, not even taking his eyes off the road. “Figures. Do you want Baskin Robbins or Cold Stone?” He asks, acknowledging your desire for a milkshake. “Or McDonalds?” He doesn’t tell anyone about your craving for the fast food milkshake even if he knows Arby’s is better.

“Nope. I just get told where to go and when to be there.” You reply with a shrug, “Anywhere closest with a drive-thru, please. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t turn towards you, just scanning the road for the closest restaurant that has milkshakes before he finds one about a quarter of the mile up the road.

“Weren’t you like a Marine or something? Why would you want to waste your time doing this?”

“Would you rather I just killed people?” He asks, tossing you a glance as he pulls into the parking lot to circle around and enter the drive through. “It’s not wasting time protecting someone. Just traded my country for a person and use the skills they taught me.” He smirks. “Plus the pay is better.”

“Ohh please,” you scoff back, “You hate this job. You hate me. You’re keeping god knows what from me!”

“I don’t hate the job, or you.” Dave pulls the car up to the window and turns towards you expectantly. “Chocolate or strawberry?” He demands, wanting to know what flavor you are craving.

You scoff again, “Sure, you don’t. Strawberry.”

Dave turns back towards the window. Once the person behind the speaker finishes their greeting, Dave orders your strawberry milkshake. Pulling forward when directed and instead of using the credit card he’s supposed to use for any purchases for you, he slips his own to the bored teenager at the payment window. It’s something he’s done when you just want a bit of junk, knowing your dad would object to you eating like crap when you are on tour. He doesn’t see Dave’s personal credit card bill and you’ve never noticed, so it’s his little secret.

“Thank you,” you say as he passes you your drink and you immediately take a large sip. The moan that leaves your lips is sinful as you indulge yourself in the sweet treat.

“You’re welcome, princess.” He pulls off from the window and moves to the exit. “What other errands do you need to run?” He demands, still unsure why you think he hates his job. He’s gruff, doesn’t take shit, but he’s never taken anything out on you. He’s just….rigid in his methods.

“You want a sip?” you offer, slightly annoyed he never orders anything for himself. You move the cup in front of his mouth and place the straw on his lips. A smile curling up on yours as await his reaction. “No other errands today. Just this goddamn photoshoot.”

Instead of pushing it away, Dave wraps his lips around the straw and sucks. Groaning at the sweet taste of the strawberry milkshake bursting on his tongue, he takes another gulp before leaning his head back. “Photo shoot, got it.”

“Taste good?” You ask as your thighs clench together at the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “Yeah! Get ready to sit around and be bored out of your mind for three hours.”

“Tastes good.” Dave can’t say that he particularly cares for the photo shoots, a lot of the shit is just pretentious bullshit to him, but he does like seeing you in the little outfits. “I have plenty of emails to go through to keep me busy.” He tells you as he starts to drive towards the studio where the shoot is taking place.

“Mhmm,” you hum back at his tone. Clearly ignoring your attempts to flirt or at least make the atmosphere a little less… boring. “Sounds like you've got it all figured out.”

You spend the rest of the journey in silence, occasionally sipping on your milkshake and tapping on your thigh. The studio is in a surprisingly residential part of LA, tucked away somewhere quiet and away from the flashes from the herds of paparazzi that swarm the busier parts of the city.

He orders you to wait and you roll your eyes as he rounds the car to open the door. He ushers you into the studio and immediately starts asking a million questions about how can or can’t access the studio and ensuring that no one without a keycard or pass will be able to get in.

You offer the receptionist a small smile and mouth ‘sorry’ as he continues to whittle off all of his demands. Never before had someone been so thorough… Even he seems to be a little over the top today, you think to yourself as you stand quietly next to him.

Dave is moderately satisfied when his questions have been answered but he’s not thrilled at the security for this place. Instead of working on those emails like he had claimed, his head is going to be on a swivel. Finally, he turns back towards you and motions you over. “We’re ready.”

“Hair and makeup?” you ask the receptionist and she dutifully points you in the direction. You glance over and Dave and he nods his head as you make your way down the hall. “I wonder what the hell I'll be wearing in this one.” You say with a smirk.

“Maybe they will actually put some damn clothes on you.” He grunts, appalled at how little clothes they wanted you to perform in. You were a fucking singer, not a stripper.

“Doubtful,” you say with a shrug as you make your way to the makeup chair. A hoard of people immediately emerging towards you with thousands of dollars worth of makeup that’ll make you look almost unrecognizable when they’re done. “Enjoy your emails.” You shoot back at him over your shoulder.

He huffs, slowly following you but keeping his eyes out for any potential issues. You don’t seem happy with this photo shoot, and if he needs to, he will tell them that you are leaving. You are a pain in his ass, but you deserve consideration. It should have been your choice to be here to begin with.

The interview is brief, she sits and asks the questions whilst you’re poked and prodded in hair and make up. Dave had set a few more ground rules than usual and banned them from asking ANY questions about your personal life and the interviewer is clearly pissed at the lack of artistic freedom she’s left to work with and after about twenty minutes of generic questions she pretty much gives up and announces that the majority of the interview will be focusing on the new album rather than gossip.

You roll your eyes as you're presented with your first outfit of the shoot, it shows more than you’re comfortable with but you don’t have the energy to argue. So you pull on the almost see through body con and make your way into the studio.

The photographer wastes no time walking up to you and grabbing at your waist, pulling you in for an uncomfortable hug.

Dave always tries to hang around the edges of the photo shoot. Keeping a cup of ridiculously expensive - yet somehow horrible tasting - coffee in his hands in order to keep from looking like a hulking thug. He is there to be intimidating, yes, but it does no good to make people try to skitter away and hide. He frowns when the photographer’s fingers dig into your waist and he takes a step forward. His job is to protect you from unwanted threats and fans, but he has no problem telling a self important prick to get his fucking hands off you. “Okay.” He snaps. “Take the damn pictures. We don’t have all day.”

You spend the next ten minutes being contorted and molded into the most uncomfortable positions known to man. Your eyes seek Dave as the photographer makes a comment that makes you shudder and your stomach twist, before sending you off for your second outfit change. 

“Jesus,” you murmur as you look at the two piece swimsuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was supposed to be ironic, the set decorated like it was the middle of winter and you’re parading around in summer gear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath before putting on the swimsuit and covering it with a robe and making your way back out to the studio.

Desperate to keep away from his judging glare you kept Dave out of your line of sight and dropped the robe with a grimace and exhale that screamed, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ The material had barely hit the floor before the creepy photographer was making a beeline straight over to you.

Dropping the coffee into the trash, Dave can see how uncomfortable you are. His face twisting into a deeper scowl as he charges forward and reaches you right as the twerp reaches you and grips the waistband of your outfit to yank the hips holes higher to show off more of you and damn near exposes your fucking cunt. “You’re done.” He spits, grabbing the man’s hand and twisting it around so that the fucker is helpless to move any way but where Dave directs him - which is away from you. “This is fucking done.” He growls again, ignoring the shouts and curses from the photographer and the people rushing over. “Go get dressed, princess.”

You nod your head at Dave and almost run back to the dressing room, unable to hide from the sound of Dave and the photographer yelling at each other.

You pull off the swimsuit and quickly dress back into your casual clothes before stepping out the door and calling Dave’s name. You know you’re about to be in for a world of hurt when your PR team and your parents hear that you didn’t complete the shoot, but you push down those worries and start making your way to the exit.

“- I don’t give a rat’s ass who the fuck you think you are.” Dave shouts, not backing down from the prima Donna in front of him. “You don’t fucking touch her. The shit you were making her do was boarderline sexual harassment and you aren’t going to do shit about it. Otherwise the local PD might get a tip about the fucking pound of coke you gave in here.”

You stand by the desk in reception waiting for him to come to you. “Dave,” you yell back towards the studio before deciding to go wait by the car.  The air feels thick and you’re not ready for the fall out that’s to come.

The photographer jerks back and Dave smirks a very pleased smile. One that says he’s gotten his point across. “Use what you’ve got, or fuck off. And don’t worry, I’ll tell her people myself.” He turns around and strides off, rushing towards the door to find you.

The sound of the studio door slamming makes you jump, you turn around to see Dave making his way over to you. “I’m so fucked,” you say as you pull on the door handle seconds after he unlocks it with his key fob, “My dad is going to be so pissed. He worked for months to get me a photoshoot with him.”

“He is a fucking coked up pervert.” Dave snarls, snatching the door from your hands and watching as you climb into the seat. “I’ll take the heat, don’t worry, princess.”

“Good luck with that,” you sigh, “Thank you though. I’ve learned to accept that kind of behavior and it was nice to have someone on my side for a change.”

"No one will touch you like that while I'm working to protect you." Dave promises darkly. "Fucker is lucky I didn't break his arm."

"Yeah?" you ask with a slight smirk, "You'd really protect me, huh?"

Dave rolls his eyes and turns to look at you when he goes to shut the door. "It's what I'm paid to do, princess." He reminds you, shutting the door and walking around the SUV.

You watch him as he rounds the car, before opening the door. "Is it too late to run another errand? I'm sure there's some dry cleaning we can pick up somewhere before dealing with this." 

He snorts and tosses you a smug smirk. "Someone's not ready to face daddy?" He asks mockingly before he starts the car. He doesn't answer you, but he pulls out of the parking lot and turns the opposite way from your house.

"Nope," you say putting extra emphasis behind the 'P' "You wanna go eat?"

Dave chuckles and looks back at the road after glancing at you. "It won't be five stars, Princess, but l'll take you to eat the best fucking food you've ever had in your life.”

"Sounds good." You say with a smile before looking over at him, he seems the most relaxed he has all day and you wonder if it's because you're not at his throat for once.

It's not an incredibly far drive, but Dave pulls off the main boulevard and enters a gated community, slowing at the wrought iron fencing and pressing a button on the little pad inside the SUV to allow the gate to swing open silently. Nodding to the man in the guard shack as he drives through and down the street.

You raise an eyebrow as you take in the rows and rows of houses with meticulously kept lawns, "Where are you taking me, Mr. York?"

"Oh it's Mister York now." He snorts. "Told you, I'm taking you to have the best damn food you've ever had in your life." He reminds you. "At my house."

"Something tells me you like being called things that assert your authority." you giggle, "Do you cook? Or do you have a secret wife you've never mentioned?"

He rolls his eyes again and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, reconsidering this entire thing. It was stupid to bring you to his house. "You think I have a wife?"

"I don't know," you say with a shrug, " know three things about you. Your name, your job and I learned today that you like strawberry milkshakes."

Dave grunts and pulls up to another gated driveway and presses the next button on the panel. "Now you know where I live."

You hum in content. His house is beautiful, the lawn is meticulous and clearly he takes pride in every aspect of maintaining his home. "It's a beautiful house.”

"It's secure." Despite the fact that Dave took pride in maintaining the type of home he had always dreamed of when he was a boy, the security was the most important thing. It takes some doing to get to him. The car pulls up into the garage and he cuts the engine after closing the door behind it. "Let's go inside."

You climb out of his car and follow him into his house. It's just as meticulous inside and as it is outside. "You have a beautiful home Dave. What's for lunch?"

"French onion soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." It doesn't sound fancy but he learned it from the girl he had been sleeping with when he was in France and he would never eat it a different way. The soup was already made, he had done that last night and it would be quick and easy to reheat it and make the sandwiches. 

"That sounds incredible," you say as you take a seat, "Never pegged you as a cook." You look around the room and note that lack of personal touches, no photos, nothing to indicate a wife or kids. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"When would I have time for a girlfriend?" He asks, striding over to the fridge to start pulling out the necessary ingredients. "I'm with you, and when I'm not with you, I'm reading reports that says I need to spend more time with you"

You hum in response, "Does that bother you?" You ask as he hands you a glass of water. "You must get... frustrated."

"I get frustrated when you are mouthy and obstinate. Not caring about your own safety." Dave grunts, removing his jacket and showcasing the double pistols under each arm from the holsters he wears.

"Fuck," you say out loud. "Is that really necessary?" You try to ignore the way your clit begs for some attention at the sight of his broad shoulders stretching the material of his shirt.

"What? You want perverts grabbing you and trying to kiss you?" He asks, lifting a brow. He knows you don't know about the stalker so he keeps it generalized. "Rooting through your trash can for your used tampons?"

"I don't think anyone's rooting through my garbage." you say with a shocked giggle. "I appreciate that you care... about the job that is.”

"That's because I had them change the procedures." It's shocking how much was being kept from you, but that was his job as well.

"What procedures?" You ask before taking a sip of water. And taking another glance around the room. 

Dave sighs slightly. "All your...intimate trash is either taken off property and disposed of, or incinerated. Personnel are monitored to make sure that they aren't taking items and selling them."

"Oh." You take another small sip of your water, your throat feeling extremely dry all of a sudden and then you raise an eyebrow, "What else are you keeping from me?"

"Do you really want to know all the details of your tour, princess?" He asks sarcastically as he spoons soup into bowls and shakes his head. "No, you don't." He answers for you.

"No wonder my Dad wanted to hire you," you murmur under your breath, "Two peas in a goddamn pod." You're pissed but you can't ignore the way your stomach growls at the smell of the soup, you can't remember the last time you had a meal that wasn't green and crunchy.

"I'm more dangerous than your father." Dave tells you simply as he slices a loaf of sourdough so he can make the sandwiches.

You scoff loudly and roll your eyes at him, "Right."

"Think what you want, princess." He huffs. "I doubt your father has a body count."

"A body count?" You ask with a confused look in your eyes, "What's yours?"

Dave turns around and levels a bland look at you. "I've killed more men than you'd want to know, princess."

"When you were in the military?" You ask. Surprising yourself at how calm you are after his shocking admission.

"Before I started protecting wealthy celebrities." He chuckles. "Pays better."

"Mhmm," you hum back, "Can't imagine protecting 'spoiled princesses' gives you the same thrill though." Your fingertip coats around the rim of your water glass as you watch him finish up the grilled cheese sandwiches. "Tell me something else about you."

Dave snorts and rolls his eyes. "Less people shooting at me." He offers dryly. "Well, you know I've killed people, I cook, what else do you want to know?" He tilts his head curiously. 

You giggle at him. The serious expression paired with the adorable head tilt makes your insides heat up, "I don't know. What do you like to do when you're not working?"

"I don't have much free time." He's with you nearly twenty hours out of the day and only had a few days off a month. "A lot of the time is spent in bed."

"Oh," you mumble. You know you're pushing it, and you know he's likely to completely ignore your question or scold you for being so invasive but the question slips out before you have time to stop it, "Not just sleeping I suppose?"

Dave snorts and shakes his head. "When would I have time to find someone to fuck, princess? I can't just pick someone out like you can." He growls, unhappy with the lackluster choices in men you've paraded through your bedroom. Discreetly, of course, so daddy wouldn't find out.

Your laugh loudly at that, "Like it would take much. I can't imagine you're short of offers," you hate the twang of jealousy that you feel at the thought of anyone throwing themselves at him. "You probably walk into a bar and before you can sit there are multiple women begging you to take them home.”

"I don't go to bars." Dave knows what you're trying to ask, but he just keeps on avoiding telling you what you want to know. Enjoying the increasing look of frustration on your lips.

"Okay, so you use hook up apps?" You ask. Intent on not letting this go.

"Hell no," Dave snorts, shaking his head. "I don't fucking use those things, they invite trouble."

"Bullshit," you snort, "You're telling me you're not inviting a new lucky lady into your bed every night?"

"Why?" Dave smirks at you in the most condescending way possible. "Is the princess jealous?" He laughs, shaking his head. 

"Curious. Not jealous," you say ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks. "So, you're what celibate?"

"Not celibate." Dave turns back to his sandwiches and flips them over in the pan. "I do alright when I want to.

"Anyone I know?" You ask, unable to hide the jealousy in your voice.

"Miranda makes it easy enough to get together when we need to release a little steam." Dave shrugs and doesn't even look over at you. He knows your face will be a sight but he wants to see what you say about him fucking your tour assistant. She was a beautiful woman and knew that it was just sex, so it worked.

You're pretty sure he saw the exact moment your heart stopped. "Miranda?" you croak out. "Wow. I guess you do make an attractive couple.”

"Couple." Dave scoffs. "No, we aren't a couple. We just fuck. Scratch each other's itches."

"Why her?"

"Convenience." Dave looks over at you and notes how you look like you're going to cry. "She wanted to cum and so did I, so it works when we want it to."

"So what? If someone wants to cum you'll provide that service as well? Or is it just my assistants that you feel the need to fuck?" Jealousy drips from every word spilling from your mouth.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Dave asks mockingly. "Someone's feeling neglected?" He knows you have a weird attraction to him despite hating his guts.

"Nope," you spit back completely unconvincingly, "Just interesting to find out what I'm paying you both to do."

Dave chuckles. "We fuck off the clock, princess. I don't steal time from you." It's laughable since he's not an hourly employee.

"Whatever," you mumble with a shrug. Annoyed with yourself for being so affected by this. He's made it clear that he doesn't have any desire to fuck you and you chide yourself for letting it bother you so much.

Dave snorts and just hums as he pulls the sandwiches off the heat and starts to plate them up. The last thing to do is melt the cheese on the soup and it will be done.

You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, ignoring the list of missed calls from your Dad and your PR team. You scroll through your unread messages and your fingers linger over an unopened text chain from a guy who you were briefly seeing, Chad, and you consider asking him if he's free to hook up later than afternoon. 

Needing to blow off some steam and try to rid yourself of the jealousy that has made itself home in the pit of your stomach. You're pulled out of your thoughts by Dave calling your name.

"Come eat." Dave slides the plate and bowl in front of the stool at the island.

"Smells good," you say before digging in. "Oh wow," you say with a moan after taking a large bite, "This is phenomenal."

Dave smirks slightly and stands across from you. "Of course it is." He murmurs, even though your praise makes his heart quicken.

"Holy fuck," you moan as you taste the soup. You're so used to eating the same thing pretty much everyday that you have to internally remind yourself to slow down. "This might be the most delicious thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Dave smirks and doesn't say what he is thinking. He can offer you something better, but he just hums and nods as he dips his sandwich in his soup. 

You stir your soup a few times before looking up at him. "Why not me?" you ask before dropping your spoon, "Why don't you want to fuck me?"

That makes him pause for a moment, staring at you and waiting for you to laugh. When you don't, he tilts his head and instead of answering you, he asks his own question. "Why would you want me to fuck you? I'm an asshole."

"Wasn't it you who recently said that all the guys I fuck are assholes?" you reply with a smirk. "You don't find me attractive?"

Dave grunts, knowing this is getting into dangerous territory. If you know how sexy he finds you, you will try to manipulate him, so his answer is just a shrug of his shoulders. "You wear too much fucking makeup."

"I can take it off," you say, looking directly in his eyes. "I can take anything you want off."

"Are you that desperate for a good fucking, princess?" Dave taunts. "You'd be a good girl and so anything I'd say so l'd fuck you?"

You feel conflicted. Your clit pulses with need from his words, but he's clearly mocking you. "You're a fucking asshole, Dave." The urge to get up and storm away from the table grows steadier but you refuse to give. Instead your eyes burn into his as you await whatever taunt he has next.

"I am a fucking asshole." Dave's grin is smug and cocksure as he leans in closer. "But obviously you like an asshole and I'm a bigger one than any of the little pussies you fuck." He shakes his head. "You let fucking losers touch you."

"Go fuck yourself," you spit back at him. Hating the way your body betrays you and despite his words being cruel they make you drip with arousal. "You know what... I'm pretty sure I heard Miranda talking about some limp dicked asshole she fucked once, I wonder who that could have been." You lie, wanting to piss him off in return.

Emotion slides off his face and his eyes flash with anger before they go carefully blank. You're trying to rile him up and you’re doing a good job. "Good thing she begs for my cock every chance she gets." He sneers. "Believe me, you'd feel my dick for days.

"I'm sure she does," you say with a roll of your eyes, knowing how much it pisses him off when you do so. You scoff loudly at him, "Is that what you tell yourself after you give whatever poor soul that finds its way into your bed a shitty orgasm?"

Dave growls for a second before he shakes his head. He knows you are trying to taunt him and it's working. "Keep it up, princess." He warns, jaw rocking in anger.

The growl he makes goes straight to your throbbing pussy, and despite the look on his face that tells you he's not playing with you, you can't help but throw out another jab, "How old are you now, Mr. York? Are you able to keep it up?"

It's the desire to shut your smart mouth that makes him snap. Coming around the island before you can react and grabbing your arms. "You want to find out, princess? I'll make that voice of yours raspy and hoarse for your next show."

"Fuck," you moan as he presses you up against the table. "Yes... Fuck, yes. Show me." you half whimper half plead as his body boxes you in.

This should be the point where he pulls back. Rejects the idea as impossible and takes you back to your people to rail about him being ridiculous and overbearing. But he doesn't.

Not when he sees the naked need in your eyes. Instead, Dave crushes his mouth against yours in a kiss designed to punish both of you.

The kiss is almost bruising, his hand twists around your hair as the other one possessively digs into your waist. He swallows every moan that you let slip into his mouth as his tongue battles yours from dominance. It's too much but not enough at once. You've never been kissed like this before and the only thought you're able to pull together is that you never want it to end.

He likes that you are still fighting him. Even if it's the stroke of your tongue against his. Demanding more of him, and pushing him. Growling into your mouth, Dave slides his hand around your hip and plunges it inside your stupid sweats that you are wearing and into your panties to find you hot and already wet.

You whimper into his mouth as he slides a finger into your slit, seemingly avoiding your bundle of nerves on purpose. "Fuck me," you murmur against his lips before reaching up to start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

His chuckle is dirty, leaning in and nipping the skin behind your ear to make you shiver as he slides his finger back to tease your entrance. "Maybe I can keep it up." He huffs in your ear right before he sinks his finger into your tight cunt.

You almost scream his name as one of his thick fingers pushes inside of you. "Fuck," you manage choke out as he curls it up inside of you. You're pretty sure it must be hurting him with how deep your fingernails dig into his arms, desperately grabbing onto him as your legs threaten to give way beneath you.

He chuckles and hums his approval for how vividly you react to him. "You want to go into the bedroom, princess? Stretch out on my bed and let me have you?"

"Yes, please," you mumble as your face nuzzles into his chest. "Ne-need you to fuck me."

He gives a dirty chuckle and pulls his finger out of you, enjoying the way you whine and your hips chase his hand. He doesn't guide you to the bedroom, instead he scoops you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a heathen claiming his prize.

You yelp at the man as he manhandles you, taking the stairs with ease before laying you down on his large plush bed. Something tells you that you should wait for him to give your permission to speak in here, so you look up at him all wide eyed and patiently, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Why don't you put those stage moves to use? Strip for me." Dave growls, wishing you didn't have that fucking makeup on, but he's not going to make you wash it off right now.

"You want a show, Sir?" you tease, as you move to kneel on the bed. You slowly reach for the bottom of your shirt and inch it up slowly.

"You gonna tease me, or strip off so I can fuck you?" You've already started unbuttoning his shirt so Dave finishes it, shrugging out of the jacket and shucking the shoulder holster for his guns.

"Both," you reply petulantly before pulling your shirt the rest of the way off, and sliding off your bottoms. "I want you to taste me.

"Fucking brat." Dave growls, shaking his head as he peels off his shirt. Always trying to dictate things. "Taste you." He sneers. "You mean lick your cunt? Eat your pussy? Tongue fuck you?"

"Aw, have I struck a nerve? Does Daddy not like being told what to do?" You ask with an exaggerated pout, "Yes, Dave. I want you to lick my pussy."

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Bet none of those pussies actually made you cum, did they?" He challenges.

"All of this talk, Dave," you tut, "Yet you're doing nothing to prove you're any better."

"I’ll gag you." He threatens, even as he's kicking off his shoes and reaching for his belt.

"Bullshit," you counter back, "You wanna see if you make me scream your name too badly for that." You remove your bra and slowly remove your panties, making extra effort to bare yourself to him. Before laying back and spreading your legs for him. "Hurry. Up.” 

"Keep it up and you'll not even cum." He growls. "I'll fuck your throat and blow my load all over that pretty face of yours.”

"Doubt I'll cum anyway." You know you shouldn't keep pushing him, but you can't help yourself. "Sounds like that's not the first time you've thought about doing that, Dave. Would you want me to eat it or just lay there covered in your cum?"

"Eat it." Dave grunts, pushing his pants and boxers down in one swoop. "If you were just wearing it, I'd want to take a picture of it. And that can't happen."

"Oh wow," you gasp at the sight of him, and you don't need to look at his face to know he's wearing the smuggest smile right now. "I'd let you take a photo." You admit quietly whilst biting down on your bottom lip. 

"Never let anyone take a picture of you like that, princess." He growls as he stalks over to the bed. "Not even me.”

"I wouldn't let anyone else, but I'm just saying that I'd trust you. Are you going to touch me now?"

"Brat." He kneels on the bed and slaps your inner thigh before grabbing your ankle to drag you closer to him, instead of lowering himself to the bed, he is pulling your legs up over his shoulder to bring your cunt to his mouth.

Your hands scramble to find purchase on the bed as he lifts your hips up towards him, "Dave," you moan as he breath coats your inner thigh, "Please." The second his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds, you start to lose it, chanting his name over and over and he dives into you like a man dying of thirst.

There's never a civilized way to eat pussy and Dave doesn't even try to pretend there is. His sole goal is to make you eat your words and make sure you never forget when he touched you. Sucking your clit into his mouth while he reaches down and slaps one of your tits.

"Don't stop," you plead as he does something magical to your clit, you whimper at the sharp stinging on your breast but you want to beg him to do it more. You brokenly sob out a pitiful 'please' as he brings you closer to your high. 

Dave doesn't acknowledge you beyond a grunt. Doubling down on the flicks of his tongue and watching you. This can only happen once and he isn't going to deny himself seeing you shatter for him.

"I’ve wanted this so bad," you croak out before everything goes black. Pleasure ripping through your body as his arm tightens around you to keep you still, his tongue continuing its delicious assault on your bundle of nerves as you're reduced to a whimpering mess.

Your choked cry of pleasure is loud, ringing out and he groans against your clit. Slowing his tongue down and working you through the buckling of your hips with the most profound sense of smug pride that he could have. Watching your face as it rapidly cycles through expressions as you cum.

Slowly everything starts coming back into focus, your thighs still shaking from the way he just completely shattered with your earth. "Oh, that was... wow." You say with a giggle. 

"Thought you said I wouldn't make you cum?" Dave huffs with a smirk on his face.

You want to hit him back with a witty retort but it dies on your tongue, instead you push yourself up when he drops your hips and smash your lips to his. Moaning at the taste of you still clinging to his lips.

It's a little too easy to wrap his arms around you and kiss you. Letting you set the tone of this one as he holds you. Dave grunts and he cups the back of your head and pushes his tongue into your mouth just like he had to your cunt.

You moan into his mouth and sink your fingernails into his shoulder blades pulling him closer to you. His cock throbs against your stomach as you bite down on his bottom lip.

"Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, trying to ignore the way your heart is fluttering in your chest. The way you're unable to stop looking into his eyes already tells you that you're fucked, but you ignore that feeling and concentrate on just feeling him. 

Humming, Dave pulls away from you. Watching you for a moment before he nods and pushes you back down onto the bed. Climbing over you to straddle your waist and he looks down at you with his cock pressing against your stomach. "Beg me." He orders, smirking at you. "I want to hear you beg me to fuck you."

It's unbelievable to you how quickly you're at his mercy, the urge to please him outweighing the urge to challenge him and so with absolutely no fight you're like putty in his hands. "Please, Dave," you whisper, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes, "Please fuck me. Fuck. You can do whatever you want to me, be as rough as you need. Use me however you want. Please. Please fuck me. I need to feel you. I.... I need you. Please."

Reaching down, Dave squeezes your breast before he starts to circle your nipple with his finger. Flicking it over the peaked tip and making you moan. "You look good like this, princess." He shuffles back and pulls your thighs out from under him to wrap around his waist.

The noises he so easily plucks from you fill the room, as you continue to be entirely at his mercy. "Yeah?" you ask, keening at his praise, "You like me spread out naked in your bed, huh, Mr. York?"

"What do you think?" He takes his cock and grips it tightly while he slides it through your folds, teasing you with it. Making sure he presses against your clit as he wets himself with your cum.

"I hope so," you reply as he makes you hiss. Your clit is still pulsing and a little overstimulated from your orgasm. "You gonna make me beg some more or are you going to push that big fat cock inside my pussy, sir?"

Dave chuckles at the quick way you try to push him to fuck you. Debating on drawing it out, he decides against it. Instead, he lines up and rather than sinking in slowly, he snaps his hips forward and splits you open in the space of a heartbeat.

The scream of pleasure that falls from your lips as he fills you to the hilt is sinful. It's overwhelming, the thickness of him is something you've never experienced. Even the few toys you've experimented with haven't been as girthy as his cock, and it takes a few moments for your pussy to adjust to the size of him. You whimper as he grits something about how 'he knows it's a lot to take,' as you involuntarily clench down around him. You give him the signal to start moving after pressing your lips to his collarbone.

He grunts as he pulls his hips back, feeling the way your walls drag against his cock and you are possibly the tightest cunt he's ever fucked. He knows he hurt you, his cock is thick, but you're squirming under him and wanting more. "Such a little whore." He chuckles darkly, looking down and watching your lips spread wide as he moves. "Want me to wreck you? Make it hard to sit down, princess?"

You simply nod your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he continues to stretch you out. You feel completely overwhelmed by him but in the best possible way. "Please, Dave," you beg as he notches against something incredible inside of you.

It makes him grin when he sits up so he can push your legs back. Change the angle even more plus it gives him the distance to keep from kissing you the entire time. Your fingers dig into his arms and he hums. "Hang on."

You feel a little disappointed that his lips are no longer hovering over yours, but the feeling is fleeting as it's replaced by something extraordinary. The angle of his cock rubbing up something inside of you that you weren't aware existed.

Every thrust pushes you further into the mattress, pushing you up the bed as he snaps his hips forward with a single determined goal, making you scream his name.

The room is filled with the sound of your moans and whimpers, "Please," you mumble over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but being unable to stop. You've never cum without clitoral stimulation before now, but the way his cock drags against nirvana inside of you has you threatening to fall over that cliff at any moment.

He grunts, shifting. his hips and he reaches down between the two of you. Rubbing your clit goes against what he wants to do, but he's overheard you talking enough that he knows it's what you need. "Fuck- fuck you keep squeezing me." He pants out, his thumb rubbing hard circles around your bundle of nerves. "You're gonna soak me. You know you wanna."

The added addition of his thumb on your pulsing clit makes you shiver with anticipation, your orgasm is already teetering and you know you're about to be thrown over the edge. "Kiss me," you plead and he simply shakes head no and increases the pace of his thrusts, his thumb doubling down on its efforts as you start to come undone beneath him. Your pussy clamps down around him hard and you scream his name as you cum, flooding his cock and soaking him as he demanded.

You have gotten to him. He's broken his own self imposed rules of never getting too close to the client. He was supposed to care about your safety, your well being. Not give a shit about your orgasms, or the way you look when you cum. He bares his teeth and takes it out on you. Speeding up and making sure that his thrusts are punching the head of his cock against the spongy cervix deep inside your cunt as he tries to fuck away the realization that he's in too deep.

He pounds relentlessly into you, chasing his own orgasm as he mindlessly starts to build another up for you. Every drag of his cock makes your legs tremble more and more. You never want him to stop and you want to feel him buried deep inside of you whenever he needs relief. "Fill me up," you plead as your third orgasm washes over you. It takes you both by surprise as you clamp down hard around his throbbing cock. As he continues to thrust into you the realization that he may have ruined all other men for you hits you like a tonne of bricks.

"Can't." Dave growls out, twitching at the idea of filling you up and the next swing of his hips nearly makes him cum, but he can't risk getting you pregnant. He would ruin you and he can't do that. "You- it's too- too risky."

"IUD," you whine in response, "Wanna feel all of you."

That does it for Dave, the sound of need rumbling in his chest as he flattens himself over your body and drills his cock as deep as he can work himself. Watching you as he starts to pump you full of his cum with a groan of your name.

"Holy shit," you pant as he fills you up, "That was... you're incredible." You giggle. He stills inside of you and you think you'd be content to stay here in this moment forever. You want to ask him to kiss you again but you don't, instead you just look up at him and bask in the afterglow. "No one has ever made me cum before," you admit with another giggle. "I thought I'd just have to rely on my vibrator forever."

He throbs inside you for another moment before he chuckles and starts to pull out of you. "Then you have been fucking the wrong boys." He groans at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt, taken by it. Wanting to push it back into your cunt and keep it there with his fingers until he realizes that he can't do this again. Shuffling back and standing, he runs his hand through his hair. "Use the bathroom or whatever you need, I'll get ready to take you back."

"Oh, okay," you reply, feeling your face fall at how quickly he moves away from you. You push yourself up off the bed and scramble around looking for your clothes. You pick up your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way into the bathroom. Once in the bathroom you clean yourself up and start to get dressed. Realizing that you left your panties somewhere in his room but deciding not to bother him as he clearly wants you out of his house. So you pull on your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way downstairs to find him. Forgetting about your discarded panties in the process.

Downstairs, Dave sighs, redressed in some clothes from the dryer and mentally trying to put back up the barriers between you and him. He needed to be objective, not emotional and he had realized while he was fucking you that you've gotten under his skin. You are his client, not his girlfriend.

"Hey," you mumble as you enter the kitchen and see him standing there waiting for you. "Did I do something wrong?" you ask before slipping on your shoes. He barely glances over at you as you do so.

"No." Dave continues to clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. "Are you ready, princess?" He asks, closing the door to the machine and turning around to look over at you. "We need to get you back."

"Yeah," you say quietly, "I'm ready." You pick your phone up from his kitchen table and follow him out to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat and waiting for his incoming speech about how it's safer for you to be in the back but it doesn't come. He doesn't glance over in your direction, he simply switches on the ignition and waits for you to click on your seatbelt and starts to drive away. 

The drive back is quiet. He doesn't look over at you but he feels your eyes on him every few seconds. Refusing to start a conversation with you when you clearly want to. It's better this way, especially since this cannot happen again.

Your fingernails dig into the meat of your arm as you glance over at him, unable to stop yourself from trying to gauge what he's thinking. His demeanor is stiff and you can feel tension flooding the air but you can't bring yourself to say anything to diffuse it. Deciding that you'll wait to see if he speaks first.

Once he has pulled up, Dave puts the SUV in park and cuts the engine. Getting out of the driver's side, he walks around the car to open your door, staying silent as he waits for you to start pitching a fit or yelling at him.

"Thanks," you murmur with a fleeting but polite smile before walking past him. The second you open that door you know you're in for a world of hurt so you take a large inhale before twisting the doorknob.

"Where the hell have you been?" Your father booms at you before both of your feet are in the door. 

"Avoiding this," you say with a small gesture of your hand, "I'm not going to argue with you. And before you mention it... that photographer was a fucking creep." You walk past your father and your tutting PR manager and up the stairs.Listening to the cruel taunts your father bellows at you and leaving Dave to deal with the fall out. 

"Before you say anything, the asshole you chose to photograph her was pawing her." Dave growls, scowling at your father. "It was disgusting."

You close the door behind you. You don't want to deal with this right now, you just want to get into your comfiest pajamas, so you do just that. Before climbing into bed and thinking about today, thinking about how his lips felt as he crashed them against yours. Since the drive home your pussy has started to ache from the way he fucked into you. You close your eyes and focus on the way you can still feel him.

"Do you know how long it took me to land that photographer?" Your father demands, puffing up his chest and looking at Dave in annoyance. As if the man thought he could actually intimidate Dave."Who fucking cares?" Dave hisses. "The contract you signed states that I have complete control over your daughter's safety and that includes killing any sessions or events that I see fit." He reminds him. "I think her being assaulted by a fucking man who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself posed a threat to her safety. Or would you rather there be a story about how her manager and father wouldn't protect her from sexual assault because the photographer was popular?" Dave wasn't above leaking a story for you, another clue that he was too involved with you. 

You can hear Dave's voice echoing through the house. His words are muffled but you're confident that he's standing his ground and sticking up for you. Lack of sleep and the events of today catches up on you and you let yourself drift off into a comfortable nap.

Dave watches as your father turns around a strides off, unhappy with his decision but there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it. Not if he wanted to keep Dave protecting you and he knows he can't change your security. Not with the threats that he has been keeping from you. 

Instead of going to his office, he climbs the stairs to see what you are doing. Opening the door to your bedroom, he finds you asleep sprawled over your bed and he huffs. Smirking with pride at wearing you out, he walks over and picks up your throw blanket and covers you up. Watching you sleep for a moment before turning around and walking out. He can't have another lapse in judgment, not when your safety was in jeopardy. 

*

It's been three days. Three days since the disastrous photoshoot and three days since Dave. You weren't sure what to expect from him afterwards, not that you were expecting anything, but the way he's clearly avoiding and ignoring you makes your heart drop. You've seen him a handful of times, using finding an excuse to dip out of the room or watching him start a conversation with someone else. You sent him three texts and all three have gone unanswered. This morning you walked into your living room and he glanced over at you before making his way across the room to Miranda and your stylist Luna. All three of them then disappear from the room as you stand there awkwardly.

"Before she uses anything, you verify where it comes from." Dave has gotten more letters and the results from the lab have him on edge. There have been traces of poisons on the paper but they can't tell if it was from the sender or something that had been contaminated in transit. There was even something off about the postal marks. That was still being investigated.

"Every bottle of water, every coke. If it doesn't come from us, she doesn't get it." He glances between the two of them. "Luna....you need to make sure that no one has access to your supplies."

Eventually the three of them emerge from the room and Luna gestured for you to follow her upstairs. You were briefly appearing on some tv show via video link and she was there to get you all glammed up.

Dave doesn't watch you as you climb the stairs but he does grab ahold of Miranda's arm when she moves to follow. Holding her back until everyone is out of earshot. "Hey." He frowns slightly. "Tonight. Get a drink with me?" He asks, watching as the pretty woman breaks into a happy smile. She wouldn't if she knew that he is planning on telling her that he's not sleeping with her anymore. "What do you say?"

You make a deal to ask Luna to go light with the makeup. No smoky eye or bold lip today. Wanting to keep it light and natural. She works her magic with your hair and uses minimal makeup, only enhancing your natural beauty and glow. Just as she's finishing up your door swings open and Miranda comes bouncing in.

"Hey babe," she greets you with, before turning all her attention to Luna, "You remember that guy I told you about, the one I've been kind of seeing for a little while? He asked me out tonight." She gushes with a wide smile plastered across her face.

"That's great," Luna gushes back before going off on some excited rant about how she should wear some off the shoulder dress that some magazine had lent to you, because they'd never notice that it went missing for just one night.

You feel tears spring up in your eyes, acid rain threatening to spill down your cheeks and you bite down onto your lower lip to avoid them breaking free. Luna and Miranda are too busy excitedly chatting about her upcoming date to notice how quiet you are.

You slink out of the makeup chair and pull the outfit set out for you from the hanger and make your way into the bathroom to get changed. "Fuck him," you mutter to yourself as you look in the mirror, he'd only touched you once but you were hooked. Never in your life had you felt more comfortable, safer and more alive than you did in those moments that he made you his and you hate yourself for losing yourself in him so quickly.

Dave strides back to the office and closes the door. He's tried to stay away from you, afraid that he will reveal too much. This has gotten complicated and if there's one thing he knows is that complicated gets messy. Pretending to ignore your hurt eyes has given him problems and he's picking up his phone. "Resnick." He greets the other man as soon as he picks up. "Need you to watch the princess tonight." He grunts, looking down at his calendar. "Need to take care of something and she's gonna be here all night. Easy work."

The interview goes by smoothly, the late night host asking you a few questions about your upcoming tour and your plans for once it's finished. He teases you about your plans for a much needed break after it's finished and he reminds you that the last time you said that you'd dropped a surprise album.

It's early evening once you'd recorded your segment for the show airing later that night. You have a few texts from friends saying they're meeting up at a bar tonight and how you should come.

After realizing that Dave will be too occupied on his date, you text back one of your friends for the address of the bar and say you'll swing by after escaping your babysitters. You see the rack of loaned dresses still untouched from earlier and run your fingers across a few of them, settling on a short black backless number and tucking it under your arms before heading back upstairs.

Dave represses a sigh when he sees that Miranda has obviously taken pains with her appearance tonight. He recognizes the dress as one that had been brought in to loan to you, but he doesn't know if you might not have encouraged her to take it. You knew that he was fucking your assistant and you might not care. Instead of frowning, he reaches for her and gives a tight smile. "I thought we could go to a bar." He offers, the real reasoning is that it would be public enough to prevent a scene, something Dave despises.

Once the coast is clear and you're happy that Resnick is too busy to notice you slipping out, you grab your keys from the drawer and make your way to your car. Slipping into the drivers seat for the first time in ages and punching the address to the bar into your GPS. Once out of your driveway, you switch on a playlist and drum your fingers against your steering wheel, singing along loudly as you navigate your way through the LA traffic.

Blissfully unaware of the car that's been trailing behind you since you left your gated community.

Almost 25 minutes later you're pulling up to the bar your friends are in and searching for a spot in the parking lot out the back.

You groan a little when you notice the only available spot is the furthest one from the bar. You pull in and switch the ignition off, taking a few minutes to look in the mirror and fix your hair.

You grab your phone and purse before stepping out of your car and locking the door, taking a few steps forward and almost crashing into a person emerging from the back of your car.

You start to apologize but he just stands there, staring at you with a smile splashed across your face that fills you with unease.

"Did you get my flowers?" He asks, taking a step towards you, "I'm a little upset that you haven't been writing back to me, but I know that you've been busy, sweetheart."

Your heart starts to slam in your chest as he takes another step towards you, you scan the parking lot for signs of another person but you're all alone with him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He asks with a frown, "It's me. It's Martin. I know you've been reading my letters. I hand deliver them to your mailbox everyday."

“I’m so glad that you invited me out." Miranda reaches out and touches Dave's arms, squirming on her high top seat at one of the last remaining tables in the bar. "I didn't think we would ever do this." The sex has been fantastic but it's only sex and she doesn't try to push for more since Dave isn't the type of man who is pushed around 

"Yeah." Dave's head is on a swivel, glancing around the bar as they both wait for the drinks that had been ordered. Frowning slightly at the rowdy group of people in the back corner. 

You remember the one thing Dave warned you to do if you ever found yourself in a situation like this. 'Do NOT panic. Try to remain level headed.' You take a small inhale and plaster a fake smile on your face, "Of course, Martin. Hi. How are you? The flowers, oh, they were beautiful. Thank you. What are you doing here?"

He tuts and takes another step towards you, "I saw you leaving, sweetheart, wanted to see where you were going to in such a hurry. It's been so long since you left your house without that guy," he snarls and you realize he's talking about Dave. "It's been so hard to get close to you.”

A shiver runs through you as his words bounce off your goose-pimpled skin. "He's not here now," though he says with a creepy smile.

"We should go inside," you say as he continues to inch closer to you, "We should get a drink."

You don't want to go anywhere with him but you figure the second you're in the bar your friends will spot you and you can signal for some help but he just shakes his head "Oh, sweetheart, it's so loud in there. We have so much to talk about. So much to do.”

You breathe out a shaky exhale before an anxiety shiver rips through you. "Just a quick drink and maybe afterwards we can grab a bite," you suggest. Trying to remain calm as he starts to box you in.

"I don't think so," he says before shaking his head, "We've been waiting so long to be together, angel, why would we waste our time with those losers in the bar. Don't think I don't know who's in there. I've seen their pathetic instagram stories... They're not your friends, they're using you... can't you see that?" He rants.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, but you don't look down at it. Instead you attempt to unlock the screen with your passcode. Keeping your eyes focused on Martin as not to draw attention to what you're doing. Your phone lightly vibrates a few times, letting you know that your attempt to unlock your phone had failed. You take another deep breath as he continues his unhinged rant and you enter it again. This time correctly.

Without looking down you tap the bottom left hand of your screen and pull up your call list, pressing one of the names at the bottom of the list knowing that Dave number occupies the majority of the list. 

His drink is wrong. How they could fuck up a whiskey on the rocks and give him a tequila and water, he will never understand but that isn't important. His hand curls around the drink and he leans forward as Miranda sips her. "Listen, there's a reason that I invited you out tonight..." He starts, huffing when the phone in his breast pocket starts to vibrate. 

"Of course." Her lashes flutter and Miranda looks positively smug. "You wanted to get laid again. Don't worry, you're getting lucky."

Dave ignores that and lets go of the drink to pull his phone out. Seeing your face pop up, he frowns, wondering why you are calling him. "Princess? What are -"

"-you got all my letters. What did you think?" Dave's eyes widen when he hears a voice that doesn't belong to you, sounding like it's several feet away and he can hear the background noise. Obviously not in the house.

His face snaps into a fierce scowl and the chair screeches against the hardwood floors as he stands. He can't shout to get your attention, you might just have the phone in a pocket. Instead he's placing you on speaker phone and immediately starts to pull up the tracking app he put on your phone as he looks at Miranda. "Call Resnick now." He orders her harshly. "Ask him where the fuck your boss is and why he isn't with her."

Your eyes continue to dart around the parking lot, searching for any sign of life as it becomes clear that you're not making it into the bar. You pray Dave has picked up the phone but you're unable to sneak a glance, terrified that Martin will notice and take your phone off of you so instead you ask him another question, something to placate him and keep him from trying anything. "Oh the flowers," you gasp, "Gosh, Martin, you are so thoughtful. How did you know they're my favorite?" You ask. Making an effort to emphasize his name.

"You told me, silly," he says with a laugh that makes you skin crawl, "On Fallon. You said that tulips were your favorite. I know a hint when I see one. Let's get out of here, sweetheart. We don't want the paparazzi getting sniff of you being in the area. I don't want you photographed dressed like that."

"Fuck...fuck...fuck!" Dave rages as he hears the comment about leaving. If it's Martin and he gets you into a car, Dave might never see you again. "Stall him, princess." He hisses, cursing the app for taking so goddamn long to pull up your location. Fucking cell service is shit downtown.

"Why don't you get in your car and I'll follow behind?" You suggest. Not wanting him to get in your car and definitely not wanting to get in his. "I don't wanna leave my car in the lot."

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart." Martin hisses, "We will take my car. The last thing I want to do is get stuck in some god awful LA traffic because you got turned around trying to follow me somewhere."

"I have GPS, I'll just punch in your address and if I lose you it's fine, I can just follow the navigation system.”

Come on Dave, you think to yourself, praying he's on the other end of the phone and/or coming to your rescue.

"But really I think we should go inside and get that drink before we go anywhere," you say again, desperate to hold off for as long as possible. But you see the impatience in his eyes, you see the way his eyes go dark as he realizes that you're stalling for something. For someone.

"I'm not an idiot, sweetheart," he snaps at you, "And neither are you. He will arrive any minute and take you away from me if we don't leave now and I know you don't want that. I hear the words you're singing to me in your songs and I can't bear to spend another night being kept away from you."

"Fucking finally." Dave growls, moving towards the door when he sees the dot pop up on the map. His eyes widen when he realizes that you are right here. In the parking lot. You are right in the fucking parking lot of the same goddamn bar he is in. He doesn't bother to say anything to Miranda, just shoving past people and running out the door as he listens to the increasingly agitated Martin start to scream at you.

Your stomach twists as you listen to the delusional words he's now screaming at you, occasionally quoting some of your own lyrics at you in between the unhinged ranting.

"Martin," you plead as he boxes you up against your car door, "We're friends, right?" you try to calm him down by saying but the sudden burst of rage that flashes in his eyes tells you that you've really fucked up.

You squeeze your eyes shut after his hand comes out and strikes you across your cheek. It's only after the immediate throbbing from the slap that you realize that you're crying. Tears streaming down your face as you attempt to placate him. You squeeze your eyes shut again and you let the one word that you've wanted to scream for the past ten minutes fall from your lips, "Dave."

The phone in Dave's hand falls to the ground but he doesn't even bother to pause. Too busy running towards the parking lot and he hears a sharp cry. Eyes narrowed as he spots you, a man pulling his hand back and Dave hisses.

"You fucking bitch! You're mine! You're mine, you're mine! You belong to me!" You cry out again when he brings his hand down, slapping you across the face as he screams at you.

Pushing his body to move faster, fury floods Dave’s veins and makes him scream out a yell as he barrels towards the attacker who is trying to hurt you. 

You whimper as you feel his hot breath coating your face as he moves closer and closer, screaming louder as he does so. You prepare yourself for another strike as he repeats over and over than you're his property, keeping your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Lowering his shoulder, Dave slams into the assailant like a freight train. Driving him to the ground and away from you in a burst of rage that has him immediately hammering his fist into Martin's sides as he pushes up off of him to get a better angle to beat the motherfucker to death.

It's over as quickly as it started. The sound of someone crashing into another, followed by a sharp cracking noise as a fist slams into a jaw. Shattering the bones at immediate contact. Your eyes briefly flicker open and close again at the sight of Dave. 

Safe. You think to yourself as you crumble to the concrete ground. The ringing in your eyes drowning out the sound of each blow Dave delivers to your attacker. You don't hear the sharp squeal of a car tire as Resnick, Ari and Kovak pull up in the parking lot. You don't hear Dave screaming in fury at them as they pull him away from Martin. You don't hear Miranda calling your name as she drops down to your side and gently caresses your throbbing cheek.

Dave's focus narrows to just the target. The ten inch by five inch oval that comprises Martin's face. Bloody now that he has hit him multiple times but he just keeps whaling on him, again and again and again despite the other man not fighting back. The image of your terrified eyes and the welts on your cheek that he had gotten a brief, split second glance are all he can imagine as he tries to inflict as much pain on your attacker as possible. Screaming and fighting when hands drag him away from his target. Lunging for him again and scrambling to shake off his team in his bloodlust to get back to the man who had dared to touch you.

You feel unfamiliar hands on you and you shudder before everything comes back into focus. Miranda. She's kneeling in front of you, your face resting in her hands as she checks out the painful welt throbbing on your cheek. 

It takes Dave well over a minute but he finally calms down enough that the team lets go of him. Jerking his shoulders free of their hold, Dave spit towards the prone man, "fucker." He hisses before he turns and rushes the few steps towards you and drops to his knees in front of where you are sprawled on the ground beside your car. "Move." He orders Miranda roughly, needing to see you are okay himself. 

"She's fine," you hear Miranda shoot back at him, still holding your face in her hands.

"Move." His voice is harder, more forceful and his own bloody fists push her hands out of his way. He wants to make sure of that himself and even then he will have a private doctor come and check you out.

"Dave," you mumble as he inches towards you, "I didn't... ! didn't listen to you. And I'm so sorry. All of this is my fault."

"Shhhhh shhhhhh it's okay. " He will yell at you later, when you aren't in shock. But for now, his hands are slow and gentle as he reaches for you. "You're okay. He's not going to hurt you."

"He's not going to hurt anyone." Resnick huffs, coming over to stand in front of you and Dave. "He's dead."

"Oh God," you squeak out, "He's dead because of me."

"He's dead because of himself." Dave tells you sternly, his dark eyes focused on you. He was the one who had killed Martin, and he would do it again. "He chose his own fate. He could have walked away. He died because he didn't."

You nod a few times just to acknowledge that you heard what he said, before a new stream of tears start to flood your cheeks, "I need to get out of here."

Dave can't leave. He’s killed a man. He will have to wait for the police so he looks up at Resnick. "Resnick is going to take you home." He tells you, starting to draw you up to your feet. "But don't shower. Don't do anything. The police will come and they will need to see you exactly as you are."

"Okay," you murmur, looking up at Dave. "Don't be long, please."

"I won't." He breaks, seeing the fear and sadness on your face. Leaning in and pressing his lips to your forehead briefly before he turns you over to his teammate and watches him escort you away to the waiting car.

You climb into the back of the car, knowing it'll give Dave a little peace. Resnick speeds out of the parking lot and towards your home. The journey passes in a blink of an eye and before you know it he's rounding the car and helping you out, leading you into the living room and onto the sofa. Before disappearing into the kitchen to grab you a bottle of water.

When the cops arrive, Dave answers their questions as succinctly as possible. The bar's cameras on the parking lot confirmed Dave's version of events and the team had scans of the threatening letters in the vehicle. It takes an hour to get the body loaded up and the crime scene photographed.

Dave tells them to follow him to your house so they can collect evidence from you and get your statement.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. The cops ask you a million questions, some over and over again as you're forced to replay the evening over and over. You feel drained, your face is throbbing and your hands haven't stopped shaking for hours.

Dave walks over to you about another hour of questions and breaks in. "That's enough." He tells them. "She's given you her statement, you can collect her clothes but we are done." He insists. "Any other questions should be directed through the legal team. She's been through enough tonight." 

It seems like eternity for them to leave. Even after Dave tries to hurry them up. Eventually you're ushered up the stairs by somebody as Dave answers the last few questions. Someone stands outside your bathroom as you pop your clothing into an evidence bag and pass it out to them through a slight crack in the door. Immediately closing it back up again and slipping into a much too hot shower. And letting the tears you'd been holding back fall freely.

Once the police have left, Dave sighs and locks the door and sets the alarm. He's sent everyone home and even had a short conversation with Miranda. It hadn't been pretty, but she hadn't really put up a fight after learning that Dave had killed Matin. Apparently the idea of a deadly man was more appealing than the reality. Trudging up the stairs, he opens the door to your bedroom and hears the shower going in your bathroom. You've held yourself together with nothing more than sheer determination and even though his hands are bruised and cut, bones obviously broken, Dave doesn't hesitate to start stripping outside of your bathroom and once he's naked he opens the bathroom door to join you.

You don't hear or see the bathroom door open. Your skin is sore from the way you've scrubbed it raw. Trying to remove every trace of this evening from your skin.

Opening the shower door, Dave steps into the shower and his heart aches when he sees you curled up on the bench. "Shit, come here, princess." He moves over to you quickly and scoops you up into his arms, taking your place on the bench and holding you in his lap.

You're not sure how long he holds you for, his voice gently soothing you as you sob brokenly into his neck. You feel him gently wash the conditioner out of your hair before lifting you up and out of the shower.

"It's okay." Dave murmurs, grateful that he's able to carry you instead of insisting that you need to walk on your own. The only time he lets you stand is as he dries you off. Gently rubbing the towel down your body and wrapping your hair for you. Picking you up again to carry you through to the bedroom and tuck you into bed.

"Stay with me?" You ask as he tucks you comfortably into your bed. "Please." You feel a twinge of guilt for asking, knowing that he had gone on a date with another woman a few hours before, ignoring the feeling that he doesn't want you.

“I’m not going anywhere." Dave promises, rounding the bed and climbing in beside you before he plasters himself to your back and wraps his arms around you to drag you closer to him. "I fucked up." He whispers into your hair. "I'm so sorry, princess. I didn't protect you."

"I ruined your date," you murmur into the pillow, placing your hand on top of his, "I got jealous and I fucked everything up." Tears spill out onto your pillow as you start to sob again.

It's news to Dave that the reason you were there was because you were jealous. He pulls you to him and turns you around so you are facing him. He doesn't care that both of you are naked, he's trying to comfort you. "You didn't ruin anything." He promises you, rubbing your back as you collapse against his chest to cry. "It's- it doesn't matter. Miranda knows now that I was ending our arrangement."

"I'm so sorry, Dave," you sob into his chest, wrapping your arms even tighter around him. "Promise me you won't leave, even once I've fallen asleep?"

"I'm going to be here, princess." Dave tightens his hold on you, just shy of squeezing the air out of your lungs. "I'm gonna be right here, I promise." He doesn't know how to soothe you, just rubs circles on your back and holds you tight, letting you sob out all your fear and anger and disappointment. 

Sleep comes quicker than you anticipated. The warmth of his skin seeping into yours as he holds you plush against him. You wake as the early morning light breaks through the crack in your curtains and beams down directly on your face. His gentle snores vibrate in your ear as you press a kiss to his shoulder. He kept his word. He didn't leave in the middle of the night as you feared. He looks peaceful, his usually tense shoulders slack and his brow not burrowed for a change. You slightly shift up and press a kiss on his lips, before nudging your nose against his.

"Hmmm." Dave frowns slightly and his hand slides up your back. "You're awake?" He mumbles sleepily, opening an eye and looking at you. He had anticipated that you would sleep for a lot longer but you look better. Your eyes have bags but you don't look like you are about to cry again.

"Mhmm-hmm," you hum across his lips before pressing another kiss down on them, "Your voice is sexier when you've just woken up.” Exhaustion still lingers in every bone in your body, your face still throbbing from the blows it took the night before but you feel safe. His arms still protectively caging you in from any harm and it makes your heart flutter.

He lets out a slightly rusty laugh, sliding his hand up and down your back protectively. "Because I haven't woken up enough to be an asshole yet."

You giggle back before pressing a third kiss to his mouth, still remaining cautious about the situation you're in but not wanting to ignore your need to touch him. "Dave," you quietly moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

"What do you need, princess?" Dave rasps out, his eyes opening again and focusing on you.

"You."

His cock twitches and his fingers dig into your hips. "How do you need me?" He growls out.

"However you want," you croak as he pushes the head of his already hard cock through your folds, "Just need to feel you."

You are sprawled on top of him and he shifts his hips, starting to fill you up as he pulls you down onto his cock. "This what you need? You need to sit on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you moan as you sink down onto him. He feels even bigger than last time from his angle, "I want to ride you, Mr. York." 

There's a moment where he watches you close your eyes and smirk. He slaps your thigh and pushes you down harder onto his cock. "Then ride me, Princess. Show me how needy you are for my cock."

"Yes, sir," you tease as you start to rock your hips. He's a lot more vocal in the morning and it makes you keen down around him. You find your rhythm after a few moments and slowly increase your pace, bouncing up and down on his cock as his fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to leave little circular bruises.

"Good girl." He grunts, his hips starting to shift up to meet your pace. Making you bounce harder on his cock and enjoying the way that you clench around him.

  You grind down on him slowly after his praise, his words making your neglected clit pulse with need. You pull him into a fleeting but bruising kiss before you increase your pace again, dragging one of his hands up to one of your tits. "I want you to fill me up," you whisper as your hand grips the bottom of his chin, "Fill me up and then eat your cum out of my cunt, Dave."

He groans, grabbing your tits harshly and rocking his hips to flip you over. Losing control at the neediness in your tone. He leans in and bites down on your shoulder. "Hold onto the bed." He orders harshly.

You grip onto the bed ready to take what he's about to give you, you clench down around him as his teeth sink into you. "Make this tight little pussy soak that fat cock."

He already knows that your next concerts are going to be canceled. He's not going to allow you to perform until at least a week goes by. So he doesn't hesitate to bite you again a few inches over. Giving you a hard thrust of his hips as he slides back so he can put your legs on his shoulders.

"Marking me up?" You giggle before a particularly hard thrust knocks the wind out of you. His cock slamming against that spot inside of you that only he had managed to find and the room is echoing with a lust filled scream of his name. The position your in allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before and he continues to rut into you.

He doesn't give a fuck who hears, although there's no one in the fucking house. He would have gotten an alert on his phone. He knows it won't stay that way for long so he makes sure that his hips snap forward with a determination to make you shatter for him, watching you closely every time he rocks forward.

With every sharp snap of his hips you're being pushed closer and closer to that delicious edge and you know he can feel just how close you are. Your pussy flutters around his throbbing cock, sucking him back in every time he moves back. "Gonna cum," you garble incoherently as you start to fall apart beneath him.

Instead of slowing down, he rocking his hips faster. Hissing and grunting curses as he fucks you frantically. Loving how tight you get and how your legs go tight, just making him lean into you harder.

"Oh, fuck, Dave," you choke out as he fucks you harder and harder throughout your orgasm, ripping it from you with ease as you soak the sheets with your arousal. You clamp down on him hard as your body convulses with pleasure, every little sound that you're desperate to unleash getting trapped in your throat as the whole world goes black. And all you can feel is him.

He sees the moment where everything fades away. Where all you can do is feel nothing but pleasure. Groaning, he pushes deep one last time, reaching up and wrapping his hand around your throat, not to squeeze, instead he tilts your head up to press his mouth to yours as he pours himself into you.

“That may have been the best way I’ve ever woken up in my life,” you say honestly but with a giggle. Nudging your nose against his. “Thank you for staying.”

Dave gives himself another moment, kissing you again before he closes his eyes and starts to pull out of you gently, his fingers let go of your throat and caresses the skin softly as he opens his eyes and looks down at you. “I quit.” He announces, staring at the swelling on your cheek from where Martin had hit you. It’s gone down, but he can still see it. “I didn’t do my job, I didn’t protect you.” He shifts off of you and onto his back.

“Oh,” you utter, feeling the happiness that you’d been floating on fleeing your body and being replaced with hurt, “No. You can’t fucking… no. What is this? You regret this again? Just like you did last time? No. I won’t touch you again but you can’t quit.” You feel your eyes burn as tears spring into them, threatening to stain your already bruised cheeks. “I don’t want to feel unsafe.”

“I can’t do my job.” Dave hisses, hating the fact that he is making you cry. You have to see that he’s doing this for you. Sitting up, he cups your cheek, hating how it’s still swollen. “I did this. It’s because I had to have some clarity. To stop things with Miranda. I wasn’t with you. I should have been. But I wasn’t. Because I couldn’t keep sleeping with her when I wanted you.” He growls angrily.

“Bullshit,” you snarl back, pushing his hand from your face. “You want me? So the solution to that is to just leave me? Make it make fucking sense, Dave.”

“I-“ Dave’s breath shudders. “I was afraid.” He confesses softly. “Afraid I couldn’t get to you, afraid he would hurt you.” He closes his eyes. “I failed you, princess. Why would you want me here? You got hurt and it’s all my fault.”

  “Can you stop pretending like I’m not a grown woman?” You say with a scoff, “I made the decision to go out last night. Am I pissed that you didn’t warn me about him? Yes. I’m fucking furious. But you didn’t fail me. But if you walk out on me right now, you will fail me, Dave.”

“You would have frozen.” Dave argues. “Every fan that comes up, you would wonder if that’s him. Every time the doorbell rang. You would have become a wreck. It’s my job to protect you from that. To let you do your job and keep the monsters in the shadows.”

“And now you don’t want to do that job?”

“Why would you want me to keep doing the job I failed at?” Dave frowns, shaking his head. “You should scream at me, kick me out, tell me you hate me.”

“You didnt fail, Dave,” you scream back at him, “If you want to go, just fucking go, just don’t pretend it’s because of the job.”

Dave hisses, grabbing your arms and the only way he stops himself from yelling at you is by doing what he really wants to do. Kiss you. He kisses you roughly, every fucking fear and emotion he had last night pours into the kiss. Hard and unyielding until it isn’t. Until the softness breaks through and the other emotions show.

You attempt to fight him off for a few moments, your efforts futile and not convincing to either of you. Before giving in and sinking into his arms, letting his kiss consume you both emotionally and physically. “Please don’t go.” You whisper as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m not.” Dave admits, shaken by the depths of his feelings for you. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looks into your eyes and sighs. “I could never leave you, princess. Never.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you murmur against his chest, terrified that he’s a flight risk. “Just please don’t push me away.”

“Princess, I love you.” He murmurs quietly. “I killed a man for touching you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes search his for any sort of sign that he’s not telling the truth, but the way they soften as the way he holds you tells you that he’s being honest. Your mouth crashes against his as his grip around you tightens, your kiss is possessive and messy and filled with hope. 

“I want to release a statement, tell the world what happened and then I want to take a much needed break. No touring right now.” Obviously some details will be left out but you want a brief statement out there. Something that’ll explain to your fans what happened, but keep the darkest side of how it ended hidden.

“Then that’s what you’ll do, princess.” Dave nods, knowing your label and your father will be furious, but he doesn’t give a shit. Your safety and well being is too important.

“Thank you for always being on my side. Even when you’re being an asshole.” You mumble into his neck.

He snorts and rubs your back gently, turning his head and kissing your hair. “I’ll always be on your side, Princess.” He promises softly. “That’s why I’m your bodyguard.”

**

Eventually, you had to get up and dress. Your entire team was going to descend on your house in a fury of questions and concerns. He had held them off for as long as he could but barely an hour after you had put on a pair of leggings and a sweater and Dave had put on his gym clothes, your father walked into the house, calling your name. “She’s in the kitchen!” Dave has you seated at the bar, drinking a coffee while he makes you breakfast.

“Hi,” you offer meekly to your father, whose face is twisted with fury. There is no concern for your well-being, no checking that you’re okay or asking about the night before. He just screams at you. Furious that you’d already posted a video on your social media account and gave as much detail as you could in regards to the night before and offered full refunds to everyone who had bought a ticket to the tour you had now indefinitely postponed. 

“What do you have to say about all of this?” He bellows at Dave after finishing his expletive filled rant and Dave just shrugs and makes a comment about it being your life before squeezing your shoulder gently.

After many failed attempts to placate him and explain what had happened the night before you simply shrug, and tell him to leave.

Dave is the one that herds him out the door, not even listening to the man as he screams that he hired Dave and he will sue him for breach of contract. He obviously didn’t read the contract, he can’t. Only you could fire him. When the door is closed, Dave shakes his head and turns around the walk back over to you, giving you what looks like a much needed hug. “It’s okay.” He promises again. “He can’t make you tour.”

“I know,” you murmur against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. “Dave, he’s in control of all my finances. I need to figure so much out today.”

“So call in your business people.” Dave murmurs into your hair. “I can call in a lawyer I know. Have him look over everything.”

“I don’t know who to call,” you admit, feeling yourself get all heated from embarrassment, “I just got called into sign shit.”

Dave has participated in this, feeling guilty about it now. “He will treat you right. Get it all figured out.” He promises.

You take a step back from him and awkwardly giggle, “Guess you were right about me being a princess,” you try to joke to hide your embarrassment.

“You were concentrating on your music.” Dave argues. “Letting others take care of the details. I did it too.” He won’t deny that. “Now, you just need to decide how hands on you want to be.”

“Yeah,” you half heartedly agree with a shrug, “But mostly it just seemed easier to let other people deal with it.”

“So you still let other people deal with it.” Dave tells you. “Just have them answer to you.”

“Like you do?” You say with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk, “Clearly, I’m great at keeping you in line.”

Snorting, Dave shoots you an unamused look. “Just try it, Princess.” He warns darkly. “I’ll do exactly what I wanted to do the first time you pitched a fit.” He pauses for a second. “Throw you over my knee and spank you until you are crying.”

“Oh yeah?” You challenge him. “I think you’d do whatever I told you to do. No argument.”

“Not if it compromises your safety.” Dave will stand firm on that. Loving you will not make him just give in to you to make you happy.

You take a step forward and whisper in his ear, “So you’re telling me that if I said really nicely that you’re to wrap those thick fingers around my throat and rail me as hard as you can… you wouldn’t? Because you’re all for safety?”

“Shut up.” Dave hisses, narrowing his eyes at you as he pulls back. “You know what I meant, princess.” He growls. “Keep it up and won’t get my cock at all until I decide you can have it.”

“We both know that I’ll be getting it exactly when I want it, sweet boy.” You know you should be focusing on your never ending list of chores but teasing Dave is too much fun.

Dave doesn’t answer, instead he draws his hand back and slaps your ass harshly. “Go eat.” He demands. “I’ll start making calls.”

“Fine,” you mumble, knowing that he’ll want to get the ball rolling and that the ache in your pussy will have to wait. “I’ll eat and then deal with myself after.” You shout back to him as he makes his way to his office.

“No you won’t!” Dave shouts back, smirking to himself as he shakes his head. You are going to continue to be a pain in his ass, but he’s not quite as annoyed by it now.

You giggle as you take a bite of the eggs he cooked you. “Oh yes, I will,” you say to yourself as you think about the way his cock feels as it drags across heaven inside of you.

**

It had been a rough three weeks. Your father had dug his heels in and made everything as difficult as he possibly could. But Dave had kept his word, the lawyer he had put you in touch with had worked tirelessly and for the first time in your life, you were in charge of your future.

Your team had agreed that you were due a break, and agreed to let you take a few months to recharge. The minute it was final Dave had pulled out his phone and booked two one way tickets to St Lucia and found a private villa on the beach that had a chef come in three times a day to prepare your meals. He paid for everything, packed both of your bags and kept everything a total secret until you were pulling up to the private jet that would be flying you to paradise.

For the past three days that had been in heaven and he’d taken you more times than you could possibly count.

The first time on the flight with his fingers, then his mouth and finally with his cock.

“See Princess? Relaxed.” He groans, slowly rocking his hips up as you grind down on his length. Sitting outside in the warm sun, the breeze trailing over your skin, you look like a fucking goddess riding him on the surprisingly sturdy lounger by the infinity pool that overlooks the ocean. No boats were allowed in this private cove and you had free reign to do whatever you want. “Just like I promised you.”

“So relaxed,” you moan as you keep the pace slow. Loving the way he completely fills you up. Your walls hugging his cock as his thumb draws slow circles on your clit. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

He chuckles, hearing those words every time he fucks you. You’ve become addicted to him being inside you and he’s not complaining. Dave’s other hand comes up and squeezes your tit. “Even more relaxed when you cum.” He coos. “Lay out in the sun and nap after?”

“Oh God, yes,” you say as you press a kiss to his lips. “As long as I get to lay on you.” You slightly increase your speed, wanting your high to come quicker. Needing to feel the warmth of his cum coating your walls.

“You’re like a leech.” He jokes, squeezing your breast again and pinching your nipple. He knows as soon as you cum, you’re going to collapse against his chest and fall asleep with his cock still inside you. It’s become your favorite way to sleep since that second night he had spent in your bed. 

“And you love it,” you say with a giggle, knowing that he loves the way it feels when you giggle on his cock. “Make me cum, Mr York.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dave grunts as he leans in and nips your bottom lip. “Have to follow the princess’s order.” He lets go of your breast to grab your hip and braces his feet on the lounger slats to thrust up into you harder.

“Yes you do,” you giggle back. Your mouth captures his as he fucks up into you. You bite down on his bottom lip before licking your way into his mouth. He swallows every moan you unleash as you wrap your arms around him tighter, “I’m gonna cum,” you garble as he starts to lose restraint fucking you harder and harder as you come undone on his cock.

Watching you peak has become his favorite view. Watching your mouth open and your entire body spasm in pleasure while you cry out is what sends him over the edge himself. Letting you burrow your way deeper into his heart as he cums, filling you up with his cum until it’s pushing out with every shallow thrust to slide back down his shaft and pool in the curly hairs in his groin.

His lips press against yours as you come down from your high, and his hand rubs comforting circles into your back. The world comes back into focus and absolutely everything becomes clear, his dark eyes find yours before you rest your forehead against his. “I love you, Dave. I love you so much.”

It’s the first time you’ve said those words to him and he sighs softly, reaching up and cupping your cheek. “I love you too, Princess.” It’s only the second time he’s said the words, but he’s shown you how he feels everyday since that morning. “That’s why I’ll always protect you.”

“My protector,” you say against his lips. “Now, I think you promised me a nap.” You nuzzle your face against his neck and snuggle up to him. His softening cock still inside of you as you feel his protective arms wrap around you.

"That's right, princess." Dave rubs your back gently and leans back against the lounger as he brings you with him. Knowing that you will be asleep in minutes. "You sleep." He urges you softly. "I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you again." He promises, looking around even though he knows the two of you are completely alone. He's still your bodyguard after all.

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part V

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: As always, if you’re interested in learning more about the historical context of any of the letters, or if you have any questions about anything that gets discussed, feel free to reach out! I will say that Bob’s mother’s remedy for influenza that gets mentioned in this chapter was a real “home cure” that people used to use back in the day!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from The Andrews Sisters song of the same name.

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to @luminousnotmatter​. I could thank you endlessly for all the love and support!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, mentions of rationing, discussion of war casualties and death, references to church and prayer, a ton of fluff as always.

October 12, 1942

Dear Peach,

First of all, I want to start by saying that I’m so sorry for the troubles your family went through at the end of the summer. Little Frankie sounds like quite the trooper, but I’m sure it must have been hard on all of you to see him so sick like that. I’m real, real glad to hear that he’s on the mend. Dottie, too.

It’s funny—even though I’ve never met her, it’s not hard at all for me to believe that your sister was one of the few babies who survived the Spanish Flu back in 1918. From everything you’ve shared with me, it sounds like it would take a lot to break Dottie Sheridan. I’d bet my last dollar that she gives Paddy a run for his money on a regular basis. Maybe don’t tell her I said that though. I do want her to like me, should we ever get to meet in person one day.

You know, a couple summers back, my little brothers ended up coming down with a case of influenza. It seemed as though they picked it up from some of the kids they’d been playing with. It might sound crazy, but my mother would take a handkerchief, sprinkle it with whiskey, and make my brothers inhale the fumes every night before they went to bed. I don’t know where she learned that remedy, but would you believe that the two of them were right as rain after just four days? I’m confident that everyone in your household is the picture of health now, but you might want to give it a try should anyone else come down with the flu. I can’t explain it, but it did seem to do the trick!

I’ll selfishly admit that the weeks that went by without receiving a letter from you were desolate ones indeed. I received a couple letters from home, which were wonderful, but I found that my mind kept wandering back to sunny Charleston instead of the farmlands of Iowa. When I finally saw your handwriting on the envelope they handed me during Mail Call, it took everything in me not to jump up and down like a fool and make a scene. Just like you, I’ve been rereading your letters each night before lights out. I know we haven’t been exchanging messages for long, but each one lifts my spirits more than you could know. And around these parts, that’s a real special thing.

Despite being so far away from home and from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, when I close my eyes and imagine sharing a slice of your mama’s peach tart or getting to dance with you again and hear your pretty voice, I feel as though everything’s going to be alright. Even if the feeling only lasts for a minute or two, it gives me something to hold onto in the moments when it feels like maybe the world really is going to pieces. So thank you for that. Your kindness and your sweet words of encouragement are helping me get through this war, minute by minute and day by day.

I think, if you’re agreeable to it, that I’d really like to take you up on your offer to show you the world one day. Maybe even from up in the air. I may be Paul’s backseat gunner, but I know a thing or two about piloting an aircraft. You can trust me. Any places in particular you’d like to see, Peach? I’m all ears.

I promise you that I am most certainly NOT remembering you through rose-colored glasses. If you remember, my glasses are very much of the non-rose-tinted variety. But they do aid my vision, which helped me to see that night back in May just how absolutely swell you are. I hope it doesn’t embarrass you if I say that I still remember the way your smile put the stars to shame that night on King Street. And though I know no rehearsal is necessary, it does make me quite happy to think that you’ll be practicing a song with me in mind. I know any song you pick will be beautiful, but how about “Someone to Watch Over Me?” It was the first song we danced to, after all. And I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. If Gershwin was still alive, I know he’d be thrilled to hear someone doing such justice to his music.

I’ll have you know that it took me quite some time to get the peace and quiet I needed to write this letter because Tommy Boy and Benny simply would not stop chattering in my ear. At first, it was just more of their usual advice—most of which, for your sake, I don’t actually take—but then I realized they were trying to pass along messages of their own to you! I very clearly, and perhaps a bit selfishly, told them that you were my pen pal and that they’d just have to go find some of their own. Benny pouted a bit, but Tommy Boy just grinned, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me he’d never been prouder.

They both say hello, by the way. I did agree to pass that much along.

Paul’s sitting near me right now, writing his own letter home to Natasha and the kids. He wanted me to thank you for your prayers and for your kind words. He’s not one to get all mushy most of the time, but I can tell that your thoughts for him and his family really do mean a lot to him. And he said he’s definitely going to take you up on that jewelry offer when we get home. He may have made some comment about buttering Natasha up when we finally return home, after leaving her alone with two babies for so long. Although, now that I think about it, my little goddaughter, Clara always insists that she’s a big girl. So I’m sure she would take great offense at me referring to her as a baby. Promise you won’t tell on me?

Peach, I hope you know how truly extraordinary you are. I find it just about impossible to believe that people don’t take notice of you. To me, that feels like people taking a stroll outside and not taking notice of the sun. But it means more to me than words can say that you can relate to me in that way. Feeling like you see me, like you really understand me—that doesn’t happen to me often. Especially not with girls as lovely as you. I’m very much looking forward to us getting to know each other better and better.

As far as childhood stories go, I want to make it very clear that Paul and Natasha were solely responsible for any and all mischief that was had in our youth. I was very much just along for the ride. I promise you that it wasn’t my idea to put frogs in our mean teacher’s purse during the school picnic when we were in the third grade. And I certainly wasn’t the one who kidnapped our class hamster so that he could “live a life of freedom in the great outdoors.” Though I will admit I may have been present when the crime was committed. I was a very nerdy and awkward kid, which I’m sure isn’t hard at all for you to imagine, so I do have to credit Paul and Natasha with providing me with some of the most exciting and interesting moments of my life. There’s hardly a memory I have that doesn’t involve the two of them. I think you and Natasha would get on wonderfully. Maybe one day, the two of you will get to meet.

What about you, Miss Peach? Were you a rebel growing up in Georgia, or a goody two shoes like me?

I’m glad to hear that President Roosevelt is keeping you all informed back home, but I’m sorry to hear that the prices are still going up. I know you already mentioned that they started rationing sugar. I hope more rations aren’t coming your way, but, truth be told, I have a sinking feeling that they will be. We’ve been burning through supplies like crazy over here, and it always feels like a scramble to get more of what we need. But I’d still hate to think of you or anyone else having to go without. It just doesn’t seem right. But then, I suppose a lot in this world doesn’t feel right at the moment.

Thank you for sharing the president’s words with me, Peach. I passed them on to the rest of the fellas, and we’re all mighty appreciative of it. I have to say, even if it was Roosevelt’s words, they sounded a lot sweeter coming from you. My safety and comfort feel like a small price to pay if it means that you and my family and the rest of the good folks back home get to rest well each night.

I hate to end my letter to you on a sad note, but thinking of men who aren’t concerned about themselves makes me think of some of the boys that we just lost recently. Just last week, in fact. They weren’t part of my squadron, but I did know several of them. They were a couple years ahead of me at Annapolis, and they were bunking on the carrier with my squadron. Good men, every single one of them. They were shot down during what was supposed to be a fairly routine fly-over. They leave behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, fiancées, sweethearts, and friends. But I think a part of them will still be here, so long as those of us who remember them are still around. They were men, like President Roosevelt said, who put duty and country before themselves. And they deserve to be remembered.

We also recently lost some enlisted men—some sailors on a nearby carrier. We’d gotten to know them pretty well these past few months, and it was a tough blow. I was saddest to learn about the death of a boy named Timmy [REDACTED]. I say boy because that’s what he was. We got to talking one night, him and I, and he admitted to me that he was only sixteen. He’d lied about his age and somehow managed to squeak on by—my guess is that with the draft on, they’re willing to look the other way when boys jump up to volunteer. Sixteen years old. I tell you, I don’t think I could have stomached this at sixteen. I can barely stomach it now at twenty-two. I promised him I wouldn’t tell, and I feel a little guilty to be breaking that promise now that he’s gone, but I think someone else besides me should know how brave he was. He gave everything he had for the family and the country that he loved. I know I’ll never forget him. I know I keep piling more and more names on your list, but maybe you can remember him, too? That way, his legacy will live on. I think he’d be happy to know that.

If any of my letters ever feel like too much to you, Peach, please let me know. I don’t want to unburden my own heart at the cost of your peace of mind. I’m thankful for all the ways you listen and make me feel heard, even with the entire Atlantic in between us. Just getting these words down on paper, knowing that you’ll be reading them soon, fills me with a great sense of calm. Has anyone ever told you what a great pen pal you are?

My mother wouldn’t be happy if she heard me admitting this, but sometimes I’m so dead tired at the end of the night that I fall asleep without saying my prayers. On the nights that I do manage to stay awake, however, I pray for you right after my family, you and Paddy and Dottie and Frankie. I pray that you’re safe and happy and well. I’m always glad to hear that it’s so.

Goodbye for now, Peach. I look forward to your next letter, as I always do.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

November 3, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I was so thrilled to receive your last letter in the mail, but I admit that I was crying like a baby by the end of it. I’m so sorry for the friends that you lost, especially young Timmy. Sorry always seems like such a trite thing to say in the face of such a tragedy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like it encompasses even half of the pain and the grief and the sorrow that follow in the wake of such horror. But for lack of any other words that would suffice, I’m afraid that “I’m sorry” is all that I can say. Please know that I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.

I hope you don’t mind, but I showed the last part of your letter to Dottie. She walked into the kitchen and was very concerned about why I was such a bawling mess, so I thought it would be better if she heard it directly from you. My big sister is much less prone to tears than I am, but even she cried when she read your beautiful tribute to that young man. We went to church the next day and lit candles in honor of Timmy and all the young men who were lost. I’m so incredibly touched that you would want to share their memories with me, Bobby. I will most certainly treasure them in my heart and pass them along to anyone I can. I don’t want them to be forgotten either. I don’t think anyone deserves to be forgotten. Everyone leaves their mark on this world, no matter how tiny it might seem to others. Even at just sixteen, Timmy clearly left his mark.

I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there, flying dangerous missions yourself and watching those around you, men who you’ve shared laughs and good times with, make that final sacrifice. Please don’t ever feel like you can’t share it with me, Bobby. If you have to live it every day, and face that reality, then the very least I can do is lend a listening ear. I’m always here for you, whatever you need to get off your chest.

To be honest, you’re the first real pen pal I’ve ever had. I’m glad to hear that I’m doing a good job, because I happen to think you’re a terrific pen pal, and I wouldn’t want to let you down in return. It’s kind of funny—when I’m sitting down to read your letters or write one of my own, I sometimes forget that there’s an entire ocean between us. Sometimes, when I read your words, it feels like you’re right here next to me. I can hear your voice, even if it was so long ago now that we were last together. And it just makes it all feel so real to me. You’re a rather wonderful writer, you know.

Hm, now let’s see. Which part of your wonderful letter should I respond to next? I have it laid out in front of me right now, so that I don’t miss or forget anything. Should we discuss your mother’s rather unorthodox cure for the flu? I’d never heard of whiskey in a handkerchief before! I thought Paddy was going to split his sides from laughing so hard when I told him and Dottie. He said that he’s not so sure he should be sticking booze in his baby’s face, but that he’d be more than happy to try that remedy himself! We’d only ever been aware of good, old-fashioned chicken noodle soup and lots of rest. I’m hoping we don’t have another influenza scare any time soon, but we’ll be sure to try the whiskey trick if we do.

Now as for seeing the world—I’ve never been flying before. On the one hand, it seems very exciting and exhilarating, but on the other hand, it seems like the most terrifying prospect in the world. Bless those Wright brothers for being the first ones to give it a go. I suppose if I ever wanted to expand my horizons, however, I’d have to get on an airplane. Ocean liners aren’t exactly the most efficient means of travel. And if I’d trust anyone to take me up in the air for the first time, it would be you, Bobby. Like I mentioned once before, my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon, so I’ve always wanted to see it. Did you know that they call it the city of love? I suppose it must be very romantic with a nickname like that. I’ve also always wanted to see Italy—the Colosseum, the Pantheon, all that amazing art. I imagine it must be so magical. Maybe not right this moment, but Rome has certainly survived its fair share of catastrophes, if I remember my history correctly. I’m sure it will survive this, too.

How about you, Bobby? What parts of the world would you like to see when all of this is over?

“Someone to Watch Over Me” is one of my favorite songs. And now every time I hear it, I think of you and that dance we shared at the USO. If that’s the song that you’d like to hear, then I’ll happily start practicing it right away. Mr. Gershwin certainly knew what he was doing when it came to composing, didn’t he?

Don’t tell them this—we wouldn’t want them getting big heads now—but I always find it to be a delight when you share stories of Tommy Boy and Benny. It makes me so happy to know that you have such good friends over there with you. And I always get a good laugh, imagining their antics. You must have the patience of a saint, Bobby, to put up with all of it. As I’ve said before, I know all too well what it’s like to have to hide away to carve out a little peace for letter writing—Dottie is constantly trying to throw her two cents in whenever she can. I actually have Frankie to thank for my solitude at the moment. He’s been a bit fussy, so Dottie hurried off to check on him. I adore my sister more than life itself, but even I can admit that it’s a bit easier to concentrate when she’s distracted.

I absolutely cross my heart that I will never let it slip past my lips that you called our young Clara a baby. It will be our little secret. I’m sure she and Natasha and Paul, Jr. will be thrilled to receive the letter Paul’s writing to them. Paul sounds like such a wonderful husband and father. He reminds me of Paddy in that way. The two of them seem to have a lot in common. Tell Paul that I’m more than happy to lend any assistance I can to helping him pick out the perfect gift for buttering up his wife. Trust me, I’ve helped my dear brother-in-law do it on more than one occasion.

Speaking of Paul and Natasha, I’m shocked to learn they were such little hooligans when the three of you were growing up. Frogs in your teacher’s purse? Kidnapping the classroom hamster? What kind of trouble did you not get into, I should ask? I think that perhaps you were more of a little rebel than you’re willing to admit, Ensign Floyd. I myself was quite the prim and proper little lady growing up back home in Georgia. Believe me, I was much too shy to be getting into any sort of trouble with anyone. Truth be told, I really sort of kept to myself, even when I was a child. But I always had Dottie, thank goodness. She’s four years older, and she’s always looked out for me. She’s my best friend and my biggest champion. It would be lovely to get to meet Natasha one day, too. Any friend of yours must be a delightful person who I’m sure I would like very much.

Your words are sweet as honey, Bobby, and make me feel just as warm and cozy inside. Whenever I’m having a difficult day, or the weight of the world’s troubles feel like they’re pressing down on me, I read your letters and they never fail to make me smile. I always knew that there were good men out there in the world—my father and Paddy have always been prime examples of that to me—but I think I was starting to doubt that there were many men left who were truly kind and good-hearted. You put those fears in my heart to rest. You are such a good man. I know we haven’t known each other long, and that most of our conversations have been through letters, but your warmth and your kindness always shine through.

I may not be able to speak to how unhappy your mother would be to learn about you falling asleep before your prayers—I like to think she’d understand, given the circumstances—but I can say with total confidence, despite never having met her, that she would be very happy and proud to know just what kind of man her oldest son is. I’m sure she already knows and is already so proud.

I keep you in my prayers every night, too, Bobby. You and Paul and his family and Tommy Boy and Benny, and all the rest of your squadron. All I ask for is that you all come home safely. And soon.

You’re in my thoughts. I look forward, as always, to your next letter, whenever it may arrive.

Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost forgot to mention that it was Frankie’s first Halloween! Unfortunately, the annual parade in town was canceled, but everyone still decorated and the children in the neighborhood got to go trick-or-treating. Dottie made Frankie a little pumpkin costume—he was the cutest little pumpkin you ever did see! We still have some candy lying around the house, which I wish I could send to you. Did Clara, Paul, Jr., and your brothers dress up this year? I hope they had lots of fun!

[nocasdatsgay]

From the Shadows the Beast will Rise Ch. 4

Pairing: Eris/Azriel | Rated: E | Word Count: 2512

Fic Summary: Months after that one encounter, Eris receives demand for a response to his summons to visit the Night Court. He ends up with warning for the future and a certain shadowsinger back under his skin.

Ch. Summary: Beron finds out Helion knows of Lucien’s parentage and shit goes downhill from there.

CW: Spoiler/not spoilers Beron Dies as he should. Canon typical violence.

A/N; there are more pov jumps in this. Áine was first used by flamesandshadows on ao3 for LOA’s name. Their works are amazing. Sorry this took so long I’ve been sick.

Master Post| Previous Chapter | Read Here on AO3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eris had left the letter in the cabin and went home, hoping to deal with it later. Two days passed without incident. Until there was a summons to the throne room. The last time his father called them to the throne room in the late afternoon unannounced, Jesminda was beheaded. Eris refused to go that night. He ended up in bed for a week after and scars on his back for it. He didn’t know what to expect this time. 

The throne room was empty, save for his father. He sat on this throne with a scowl on his face in his burnt orange ceremonial tunic and red robe. Eris’s stomach lurched at the implications. He walked down the crimson tile and stopped short of the dais. Beron did not speak. Nor did he spare his son a glance. Eris kept his posture and waited. 

He didn’t have to wait long; his brothers filed in shortly after him. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hall as they each filed in and stopped next to or near Eris. Once the final brother entered and the door shut, their father stood from his throne. A door to the side opened and Eris felt his stomach drop to his feet. 

Their mother was dragged in by a guard. Her hands were bound behind her back and she kept her gaze to the floor as she was brought in. She was in the same dress from the day before and there was still bruising on her left cheek. The guard pushed her once he reached the space between them and the dais. She stumbled, the hem of her dress tripping her. Eris couldn’t even process what was happening to save her the fall. With a sob, she landed on her knees. Beron looked down at her with a disgust Eris had never seen given toward his mother. He stepped forward once the guard left and with rage in his eyes spoke to their mother. 

“Tell them, Áine. Tell my sons why they’ve been brought here.” 

She let out a sob. Eris became increasingly panicked. His eyes scanned the room and he processed all the options he had in order to get her out. When she did not respond, Beron pulled out his sword from the sheath near his hip.

”Your mother is a whore.” Beron spat. Eris saw his brothers recoil in his peripheral vision. “I made her Lady of Autumn. I took care of her family. All she had to do was remain a faithful wife. But you couldn’t, could you Áine? Couldn’t keep your fucking legs closed.” 

Beron took a step down and their mother shuffled back on the floor. His voice cracked slightly but Eris knew it was embarrassment that caused it. 

“As your high lord I had every right to kill you. You and that bastard son you bore. I gave you mercy. I claimed him as my own when I didn’t have to in order to save our family the embarrassment. I swore you to secrecy.” Beron looked up toward his sons. “Your mother has embarrassed this family for the last time.”

“Beron,” their mother wept. “I didn’t tell him. I don’t know how he found out. I kept my word.”

“Enough!” Beron roared, tightening his grip on his sword. “The word of a whore means nothing.” 

Eris knew what he needed to do. Beron stepped down again and thankfully their mother shuffled further back towards them. Towards Eris unknowingly. He knew his father spoke again but his blood was roaring in his ears. As Beron lifted the sword, Eris snatched his mother off the floor and ran pulling her with him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel. The lady is in danger. 

Azriel stiffened in his chair. What lady?

Lady of Autumn. She and Eris are in danger. That made Azriel’s wings spread open. The High Lord will kill them. We must go.

“What’s wrong,” Cassian looked over at Azriel. 

He forgot he was at dinner in the River House. Everyone was staring at him. 

“There’s a disturbance in the Autumn Court. I think Eris is making a grab for the throne.” Azriel said more calmly than he felt. His shadows were swirling around him like crazy, hissing in his ear to hurry. 

“You should go.” His gaze snapped up to Elain who sat across him. She seemed dazed. “Go to Autumn, Azriel.” 

He cut over to Rhy and Feyre. They nodded in unison.   

Go Az, we promised to support him. Feyre said in his mind. 

He didn’t have time to look towards Cassian and Nesta. His shadows took that as confirmation and covered him, pulling him straight through the River House wards and into Autumn.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris and his mother made it to the courtyard in the center of the forest house. For once he wished he had the ability to cleave wards not his own. A plume of fire appeared before them and Eris shoved his mother behind him. Beron stepped forward and threw fire their way. They barely dodged it. 

“I did not raise you to be a fool. Get out of the way or I will end you as well.” Beron sneered at him. “I have three other sons who will gladly take your place as heir.” 

“They won’t need to take my place.” His mother screamed as he blasted a wall of fire at his father. He yelled over his shoulder. “Go. Now.” 

Fire blasted back against his own and he stumbled from the force. His mother didn’t leave. He was going to yell again but a dark mass formed behind him. 

It was shadows. 

Eris spread his fire wider hoping the wall would block them from view. His mother screamed when Azriel stepped out and grabbed her. 

“Go, get her out of here.” Eris said in a lower tone hoping Beron didn’t hear them.  

He didn’t look back to see if they had listened, only prayed they were out of sight as he thrusted another blast forward. Eris dropped his shield of fire first, quickly dodging his father’s flames to the right. Trees in the courtyard caught the flames. He sprinted around as his father grew more visibly aggressive. 

One of them will die tonight. 

He hoped it wasn’t him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Keep her safe. The shadows whispered and Azriel shadow walked them to a pavilion on the second floor. He helped the Lady steady herself while Beron and Eris fought below them. 

“You saved me.” She whispered. 

Cut her binds and give her the Truth-Teller. 

Azriel didn’t reply to her and was already performing the motions before his shadows even whispered to him. He unsheathed his blade and cut through the rope. As she rubbed her wrists he held it out, handle first, to her. She stared down at it. It reminded him of when he gave this blade to Elain. She had the same blank expression on her face when she finally took it from him. His eyes trailed over to her sleeves; patterns of autumn flowers sewn into them. He knew what to do. Her gaze snapped up to his and he nodded. 

The noises from Beron and Eris’s fire battle came back into his focus. Looking down, several trees were on fire and Eris was starting to look fatigued. It amazed him that none of the guards had come- almost as if they knew better. Azriel held out his hand and she took it. He pulled her tight and they disappeared into the shadows. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris was starting to work up a sweat. His father was strong. Each blast of fire he dodged, he could feel the heat of it. His own magic was barely making a dent. The next blast went past him and hit the trees, breaking and setting a few on fire. The whole courtyard would be ablaze if one of them didn’t end it soon. He couldn’t afford to look to see where Azriel went with his mother. 

Though his question was answered when shadows, almost like a void, appeared behind his father. Beron didn’t sense it. Eris froze and a blast of fire hit his arm, making him scream as it burned away the sleeves of his shirt and scorched his skin. He could hear his father laughing while he tried to shake it out. 

“I should have known you were too soft for the throne when I banished that bastard child,” Beron spat out. “I will make you watch me behead your  whore of a mother before I finally rid myself of you.” 

Eris didn’t respond to the taunt. He was too busy staring wide eyed at the scene before him. His mother and Azriel stepped out of the void, his mother holding a dagger in her hand. He’d never seen her look so vicious. Azriel disappeared and Beron seemed to realize a moment too late, someone was behind him. Eris’s jaw dropped as his mother stabbed the dagger into the back of Beron’s neck. Azriel appeared beside Eris. He grabbed him and a moment later they were right in front of Beron, stepping out of the shadows. 

Eris took the handle and pulled the dagger out with his unharmed arm. He set it ablaze and stabbed his father directly in his heart. The flames turned blue, Eris pouring all of his magic out while twisting that dagger. Beron was yelling and screaming but Eris couldn’t hear it over the roar of the flames. Why was left of Beron fell to the ground, sliding off the dagger and the flames disappeared. For a brief moment, everything was silent. 

Then the magic came. 

It hit him with such force, he stumbled and dropped the blade. There was a loud crack, like the sound of lightning. Maybe it was actual lightning, considering how a flash nearly blinded his vision. He doubled over, unable to stand with the amount of power washing over him. Darkness was swirling around him. He knew he was changing; then the darkness swallowed him whole. 

~*~*~*~*~

Azriel steadied Áine, pulling her back away from the scene before them. She sobbed as she watched Eris set Beron ablaze. They watched him crumple to the ground and Eris stared down at him, breathing heavily. Then the lightning strike came, causing him and Áine to jolt in shock. Azriel felt horrified watching Eris double over, flames engulfing him. He didn’t realize his shadows had left him until they started swirling around Eris. 

From the shadows the beast will rise. 

“We need to get back,” he whispered, pulling Áine with him as he moved quickly away from the scene before them. 

“What’s happening? Why,” she didn’t finish her question.

The shadows formed an enormous black sphere around Eris for a moment. When they broke apart a beast stood in his place. High Lords rarely showed their beast forms- save for Tamlin who didn’t use much magic to generate his own. He had seen Rhys and Helion’s in battle. Outside of them, Azriel had never seen another High Lord’s beast. Yet before him was the Beast of Autumn. A vicious wolf with red fur and flames on his ears, paws, and tail. He snarled and rows of sharp teeth flashed.  

The wolf-like beast tilted his head up and howled. A haunting and loud howl that seemed to echo after he dropped his head back down. The amber eyes of the beast looked to Azriel and Áine. Az wondered if Eris was in control or if the magic was too new and raw. He grabbed Áine’s arm, ready to winnow if Eris charged at them.  

Thankfully that wasn’t necessary. His shadows circled the beast again and Azriel watched, almost dumbfounded as they blocked him from view again. When they swirled, breaking up and departing, Eris stood back in the beast's place, almost glowing with his new found power. The shadows returned to Azriel.

Our mate is safe. They whispered. 

What? 

Azriel’s gaze snapped back to Eris and he felt it. A knot in his chest with a taunt tether to the new High Lord before him. Eris must have felt it too, from the shock etched in his features. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Azriel said and dropped his grip from the Áine.

Eris seemed to snap out of his daze also. With a fury he stomped up to where they stood, stopping before Azriel and looking him over. 

“Did you know?” He hissed. 

The power coming off of him reminded Azriel when Rhys was newly crowned. The next few days would be volatile at best, but he knew Eris knew that. So he had no issue giving the new High Lord an attitude. He huffed and shook his head. 

“Of course I didn’t know,” he replied back smartly. 

He watched with a frown as some of his shadows left him to float to Eris. They swirled around him despite him trying to shoo them away. Áine gasped and they both looked at her. 

“You’re mates,” she said in almost a whisper. 

“I do not need a mate,” Eris said with such vitriol that Azriel would have believed it if the bond didn’t hum something different. He looked to his mother, still scowling. “Nor do I have time for it. Gather the court mother, while I go see where my brothers ran off to. There is much more work to be done even with him dead.” He looked back to the body on the ground. “Have my guards move him as well.”

Eris winnowed away now that the wards responded to him, leaving them standing alone in the courtyard. Áine looked at Azriel, meekness seeping back into her demeanor. 

“He doesn’t mean it,” her voice was soft. She went to reach out but thought better of it. “Don’t go just yet.”

“My allegiance is to the Night Court,” he replied. “My presence will complicate things.” 

He didn’t like how sadly she looked at him. “I understand. You’re welcome to come back when things have settled.” 

He gave her a sideways glance. “Isn’t that up to your son?” 

She tilted her chin up in a way that reminded him of Nesta. He wondered what she was like before Beron carved out her soul. He wondered if she could get it back now that he was dead. With an air of authority she had not possessed before she replied. 

“He may be High Lord but I am his mother. I will not allow him to make my same mistakes. Go to your High Lord and High Lady, tell them Beron is dead and to have a drink for me in celebration.” 

Instead of walking away she walked towards Beron’s body. She knelt down and picked up his knife, not even bothering to look at her dead husband. She stood and with her chin still high she walked back to him and held it out. He took it back without a word. 

“I’ll be expecting you in the future, shadowsinger.” She said with a tone of finality before leaving him there and walking back towards the house. 

Next chapter

[polutrope]

maglor, daeron, and 11! (romantic or platonic)

Hey, I finally managed to write some humour-fluff with one of these prompts!

Post-canon Aman, Daeron/Maglor featuring Fëanor, with a special guest appearance by Nerdanel. 2.7k words (!!). Rated T. On AO3.

For the prompt "because he is the son of his father".

* * *

To Canafinwë Macalaurë (Maglor), esteemed colleague, from Daeron, chief minstrel of the Eldar and loremaster of Alqualondë, greetings. 

Let me begin by expressing my regret that I have not attempted to reach you sooner. My time has been so full since coming to the Blessed Realm, you would not believe! There is simply so much to discover here, so many extraordinary people to meet, so much to learn. But I have been primarily occupied with gathering the lore and wisdom of my people—I still cannot comprehend how the Teleri of Aman kept no written records for five ages. 

I have recently returned from a journey to the Telerin fisher villages along the northern coast where some of the more reclusive of my folk reside, and it brought you to mind. Have you been? I think you would like it. Though perhaps you are quite sick of the sea, I do not know.

In any event, I would say that we two are long overdue for a visit. Do not worry—I will come to you. I have been meaning to make the journey to the country around Formenos and this is an excellent excuse. So, it is likely that I will already be on my way (on foot, as usual) by the time you receive this letter, but I thought it would be rude to show up unannounced. I do not wish to intrude on the privacy of your family, especially at this time.

I will be staying at the inn in the village and will send a messenger when I’ve arrived. I look forward to seeing you there. 

For the third time that afternoon, Maglor flipped the parchment face down and dragged a thumb along his jawline.  

“What is so strange about it?” asked Nerdanel. “You have a great deal in common. Minstrelsy. Arrogance. Legendary self-pity.”

Maglor glared. Without averting her gaze from the vase taking shape on her pottery wheel, Nerdanel smiled smugly. Then, twisting up her features, she asked, “But what did he mean by that bit about ‘especially at this time’?” 

“I assume he means Father’s return.”

It had been over a year since Námo had dismissed Fëanor without the slightest fanfare or warning, not even to his family; but it had been done so quietly that others were only beginning to hear of it. Fëanor, who was greatly enjoying being alive again and did not wish to have any drama spoil it, was keeping his existence as private as possible.

Nerdanel bit her lower lip. “I suppose that’s considerate of him.” She sighed. “I am surprised you have not corresponded at all before this. How long since he sailed to Aman?”

“I have no idea,” said Maglor, throwing up his hands. As a matter of fact, it had been one hundred forty-five years and seven months that Maglor had held off on being the first to reach out, but he did not tell his mother this. 

“You were acquainted in Beleriand, were you not?” 

“Yes,” Maglor hissed impatiently. “We met, once.” 

“Only once? Endor is large but I would think in several millennia of wandering you might have run into each other, no?”

Maglor glared, again. ”No. Only once.” Nerdanel gave him that gentle but withering glance every mother everywhere gives when she knows her child is lying to her. “All right,” he admitted. “Yes, we crossed paths a handful of times.”

“I see,” said Nerdanel. “You slept with him.”

“What!” Maglor slammed the desk and whipped his neck round to face her. 

“Please, Lauro, you may be thousands of years older than you were when I first learned to recognise the meaning of that blush on the tips of your ears, but it is as obvious as ever.” She flicked her eyes at him again. “You really ought to grow out your hair again. You have such nice hair. Well, did you last part with Daeron on good terms?”

Maglor bit down on the flesh of his cheek. Sneaking off before sunrise was impolite, certainly, but it could have been worse. It also could have been better. 

“Neutral terms,” Maglor answered, and sighed. What was the use of discussing it? He could not very well refuse an invitation from the minstrel of the Eldar and loremaster of Alqualondë, and Daeron’s tone made it clear that he knew as much. 

It was Maglor’s suggestion that they meet in the morning. To have it over and done with, but also because he was less likely to make a regrettable decision by the light of day. 

After glancing longingly over the list of the sparkling wines, Maglor settled on black tea. Daeron ordered the same, and a tray of scones. 

“How long until you are allowed back in Eldamar?” asked Daeron, marking the end of meaningless pleasantries and the beginning of awkward unpleasantries.

“What?” said Maglor. Tea sploshed from the spout of the teapot as he set it down. “I am not banned from Eldamar. It is my choice to live here.”

“Oh, my mistake. I suppose I assumed since you made the decision to sail here that you yourself deemed the term of your exile ended.”

Maglor huffed. “I live here because I like living here. Besides, I didn’t—” he started to say. “Never mind.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I chose to sail.”

“So she did find you!” Daeron laughed that bright, musical laugh that had never left Maglor’s memories. It sent a rush of warmth through him, momentarily distracting him from the realisation that—

“Wait. You told her where to find me?”

Daeron winked. “I figured if anyone could force you to board a ship West it was Galadriel. She was right, you know. It’s not really up to us to decide how we ought to atone for our mistakes, is it? Anyway, what was the judgement of the Valar?”

“That my self-imposed exile was more than sufficient punishment and I am forgiven.”

“Hah!” Daeron clapped his hands. “She must have hated that!”

“She did,” Maglor said. “And she hated the subsequent release of the rest of my family even more. She’s convinced that was my doing, and she is not alone.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the rumour. That you sang before Mandos. I never believed it. Not even you could sing a song like that.” At the allusion to Lúthien, Daeron’s eyes clouded like one who is far-off, walking in wistful memories. To Maglor’s surprise and embarrassment, he felt a prickle of jealousy. 

“Yes,” said Maglor, “and that is another reason I don’t visit Tirion—let alone the other cities of Eldamar. People do not like me there.”

“The Valar do seem more willing to forgive than our own kind, don’t they? Your father for example! That was a surprise!”

“Mm, yes.” Maglor brushed a few crumbs of scone from the tabletop. 

“How is he?” asked Daeron.

“What?”

“The great Curufinwë Fëanaro. How is he since his re-embodiment?” 

Exuberant, thought Maglor. Delighting in life, more brilliant than he ever was, inspired, and positively overflowing with the most eloquent and heartfelt apologies. 

“He is well.”

“Really? Wonderful news. Will he return to Tirion, do you think?”

“I do not think so, no.” (What Fëanor actually said was, “Oh no! Not this time. This time I am staying well away from it all! With all due respect to our noble kindred, I have no interest in getting myself entangled in that marble-domed, gem-encrusted pit of vipers.”)

“A shame,” said Daeron. “Though I can understand the impulse. It must all be a bit tedious for a brilliant mind like his. I find it a bit tedious myself, but well. My talents were needed in Alqualondë. And then the High Kings approached me about my newest position, and I am sure you of all people understand that one does not simply refuse an invitation to become the official minstrel of the Eldar.”

“No,” said Maglor, swirling his tepid cup of tea. “No, that is not a title someone simply refuses.”

“In any case, I was wondering— Well, I’ve become familiar with his works since coming here— It is difficult not to when half the library of Tirion consists of his works and those building upon them— What a relief none of it was destroyed! It is fortunate that the Noldor value lore and wisdom as highly as they do— I think I would have made a good Noldo, you know— Funny, you would have made a good Teler—”

“Daeron,” Maglor interrupted. “What are you getting at?”

“Sorry.” Daeron knit his excitedly fluttering hands on the table in front of him, then looked into Maglor’s eyes. “I’d like to meet him. Your father.”

The first elf Maglor had courted had been a gorgeous, silver-haired Teler. In addition to being one of the most talented flautists in Alqualondë, Halorniel was charismatic, clever, and had an excellent sense of humour. It was with great pride that he had brought her to dinner with his family for the first time. 

It was with burning envy that he had watched her held thrall by his perfect, brilliant, and captivating father through the entire evening. Halorniel was the first, but not the last; just as Maglor was the first, but not the only of his brothers to suffer this indignity. 

Maglor had all but forgotten about this consequence of being a son of Fëanor when Fëanor himself was alive and available for comparison. Until Daeron had expressed his enthusiasm to meet Fëanor. 

Maglor also realised that, despite setting the early morning date, he had held out hope of reigniting something with Daeron. How foolish, to imagine the loremaster of Alqualondë and chief minstrel of the Eldar had had any interest in him, the Noldor's notorious hermit-bard. 

Not even an intellectual or artistic interest, it seemed. Maglor was not sure that Daeron or Fëanor had noticed when he rose and left them together in the sitting room several hours ago, having been left out of the conversation for at least a half-hour before that. 

He had spent some time walking in the gardens, and accepted Maedhros’ invitation to help with pruning the grape vines to distract himself. But, incapable of focusing of the task, he kept cutting back too far, and had been somewhat brusquely dismissed. So he found himself back at the house and listening outside the window to the excited exchange of ideas between his father and Daeron. 

“It is extraordinary,” said Daeron, “I could find no commonalities, no relation to any other linguistic grouping in Arda. It is almost as though the whole people came from outside.” Daeron laughed. “Which is of course impossible.”

“You think so?” said Fëanor. “I am not so convinced that Arda is the only place in Eä with speaking peoples.”

“What do you mean?” said Daeron, a charming tone of wonder in his voice.

Maglor could practically hear his father’s self-satisfied smile. “I have created an instrument that can allow one to see across great distances in the heavens—well, my grandson invented it, but I have improved upon it—and I have discovered that there are other bodies like to Arda throughout Eä.” He lowered his tone conspiratorially. “I have not told anyone besides Telperinquar, lest the rest of the family think I have gone mad, but I do not believe the Quendi and Atani are the only Children of Ilúvatar. I believe there are many—dozens! hundreds!—of other peoples, with their own cultures and traditions and languages.”

Daeron gasped. “Do you think they know of us?”

“Perhaps,” said Fëanor. “Perhaps. I intend to find out. I am devising a language based on the principles of music, since music is after all the language of Creation and underlies all things, that could be reduced to simple waves of sound capable of travelling across the vast distances required to— Say! You might be just the person to help me!”

Maglor punched the side of the house. They both fell silent.

“Did you hear that?” asked Daeron.

“Yes.” Fëanor paused a moment. “Probably nothing. But what do you think? I know you must be terribly occupied with your various roles, but your expertise would be invaluable.”

Maglor did not hear Daeron’s answer, for he was trudging through the garden, away from the house, with his fists clenched at his sides. When he reached the river, he kicked the bank and let out a petulant cry of frustration. 

“So I am going to stay in Formenos!” said Daeron, beaming. “To help your father with a project.”

Maglor grunted and did not look up from his book. “That’s nice.”

“You are not pleased.”

“Very clever observation,” said Maglor, and flipped a page.

Daeron sat down on the bench beside him, his hands folded over his knees. “Hm. Have I offended you?”

This got Maglor to look up. He shut the book. “Yes, actually. You have.”

“How?” Daeron’s thick silver-grey brows beetled over his deep-set black eyes and sharp nose. His pink lips gathered in a little pout. 

“You are arrogant, presumptuous, and a shameless abuser of friendship.”

“Abuser of friendship?” asked Daeron. His laughter was disarmingly nervous. “I admit I can be the first two, but what friendship have I abused?”

“Ours!” Maglor cried, and came close to hitting him on the head with his book. “You used me to befriend my father, and now you are—” Maglor gestured helplessly. What? Claiming his father’s attention? Taking Maglor’s place? That sounded absurd, when he actually considered it. “I know what your project is. I heard you. You are going to help him devise a language. A language of music. Hah! It is as if he has forgotten—” Maglor broke off, suddenly aware of the tremor in his voice.

“What!” Daeron seemed genuinely taken aback. “You clearly did not hear all. I told your father you would be better for the task. He’s afraid to ask for your help. He does not think you have forgiven him.”

Maglor felt as if he’d been struck in the chest with a hammer. “Oh.”

“Have you?” asked Daeron.

“What?”

“Forgiven him?"

There was a long pause. Maglor rested his chin in his palm and considered. He had. Or he had thought he had, a long time ago, when it was just him and his musings and the sea, and forgiveness seemed easy. But he’d never expected Fëanor to live again. He’d never expected to see him again, thriving and well. He resented him for it. He resented all of his family, he realised, for the healing he’d never received. The healing of which he’d deprived himself. 

“No,” he said at last. “I haven’t.”

“There, you see,” said Daeron, and he took Maglor’s hand. Maglor’s fingers naturally fell into place between his. “I see how it looks that way. That I abused our friendship, as you say. I think I actually used your father’s re-embodiment as an excuse to finally write to you, and to pretend it wasn’t because of you. For that I have deserved your accusation of arrogance—or pride, at least. I did want to meet him, and I am glad I have, but…” Daeron sighed. “I know how it is. To have had no rest. Our situations are obviously different, so I won’t presume,” he looked at Maglor and a smile played at the corners of his lips, “I won’t presume to know what it is like for you, but I think it is much harder to start over when you’ve just kept on living and living without pause. I hoped that coming here would help you. That’s why I told Galadriel where to find you. But I suppose—well, I know now—that it’s not simply a matter of being whisked away on the Straight Road and having all your pain trail behind—mmph!”

The end of Daeron’s sentence was trapped in his throat, for Maglor had grabbed his face in both hands and planted a kiss firmly over his mouth. The utterance of surprise turned to a honeyed whimper of delight as Daeron graciously received the kiss.

Maglor pulled back, smiling. “I’m glad you’re staying." He patted Daeron's pinkened cheek. "Though you may find my father no longer requires your assistance.”

Daeron shrugged. “I think I’ll stay awhile anyway, if that’s all right with you.” 

“I’ll allow it,” said Maglor, and kissed him again. 

On AO3

I should mention the idea of the 'Telerin fisher villages' comes from this beloved Fingon/Maglor fic by mangacrack.

[thetawnyowltxmblr]

Presenting…

Tintin: Flames in Versailles

Prologue

January 16th, 1938, London.

Another chilly morning, new year having just passed. I’m looking forward to all the new stories I get to uncover this year. I've always had an appreciation for mystery and a keen eye for detail, so you can bet your ass I’m brilliant at discovering what lies beneath the surface when it comes to an unsolved case.

I begrudgingly left the comfort of my bed and got myself dressed, I was about to be late for work. I’m an investigative reporter for a newspaper called ‘The Daily Anchor’, a small newspaper but it’s kept me employed for the past five years, and it’s been a joy since I can have the adventure and excitement I’ve already strived to have. It may not be as popular as the larger newspapers but I can’t complain, they pay me well.

I walked into the kitchen to find my wife, Lucille pouring coffee into a thermos for me, the usual. Lucille is a librarian, with a wonderful sense of the world around her. She paints in her spare time and her talent is absolutely admirable, our little apartment has become encased by her art and it just fills me with joy how she keeps producing such beauty (even with a lack of sales) she never gives up.

“Morning, my darling. Coffee is ready to go, have you got your briefcase?” Lucille handed me the thermos and smiled. I had a moment of brief panic when she mentioned my briefcase. “Ah- uhh, where did I—” I’m cut off by her holding it out for me with a snarky look on her face. “Aaah, what would I do without you?” I chuckled, taking my briefcase from her hand. “You’d suffer, we know that by now.” She joked. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and I headed out the door.

Thankfully my office wasn’t too far from my apartment, about a 15 minute walk. Especially considering that it was about eight degrees that morning. I watched as I saw the people I saw everyday following their routines, man with a pendulum, lady with a newspaper, those two police officers that I heard apparently AREN’T related despite them being practically twins? The same people every single morning.

I had made it to my office and hung my coat up in the closet, said hello to Mural, our receptionist and made my way to my desk to receive my first amount of paperwork for the morning. I began typing up a story from a previous adventure when all of a sudden, I heard a slam on my desk. I jerked my head to see my boss, Mr. Pincher holding one of our newspapers with my story on the cover.

“Jaques, my boy! Your story on the Woolworths Bank caper just had our sales go up 2 percent in the last week! Well done, kiddo!” He exclaimed, giving me a slightly harder than necessary pat on the back. “Goodness, thank you sir!” I know two percent might not seem like a ton, but considering our size, it’s pretty good all things considered. “After this last one, the people want more big mysteries from us, so I’m putting you on another investigation.” He said reaching into a satchel and pulling out another paper, not from us, but from a way bigger paper company.

“You’ll be encouraged to talk to the other reporter on this case, try and work together. This is a BIG one, boy. I know you can handle it.” He said before handing it to me, then treading back to his office. I flipped it the right way up and began reading the title, wondering what it said. However, when I read it I felt a heavy feeling in my chest that sank right down to my stomach.

“Dubois Estate fire case REOPENED” the text read in bold letters. The subtext read; “After 6 years, investigators have officially reopened the tragic Dubois estate fire that resulted in the death of the young, Bella Dubois, after recent evidence suggests foul play. I couldn’t move. I was in a state of complete disbelief, after half a decade, after thinking I was safe.

Something didn’t make sence and I had to get to the bottom of it, then I saw who was investing, who had written this very article… I jolted out of my chair, grabbed my things (plus the paper) and made my way to the exit. “Jaques? Mate, where are you going?” One of my colleagues stopped me.

“I uh- just, I think I left my… windows open!” I tried to get past him. “Is Lucille not home?!” He yelled after me. “NOPE! BUH-BYE NOW!” I grabbed my coat and ran out the door. I sprinted all the way back home and when I arrived slammed the door open and called out, “Lucille! Lucille, we have a huge problem!”. I saw her run into the room in a panic, “What!? What’s wrong? Why are you not at work?!” Panting from the run, I held the newspaper in front of her face, she adjusted her glasses and read the title, turning pale. “Mon dieu…” I heard her whisper, she places her hands to cover her mouth from shock.

“They’ve found something, I’m not sure what, but something must have survived that fire and now that they’ve found it, we are in deep shit!” I exclaimed in a frenzy as I started pacing around the room. “Jaques! We need to remain calm, okay?! I’m sure this won’t lead to anything! They never do!” She grabbed my arm and tried to calm me down, but knowing what I knew made it so that her attempts lead to nothing. “My dear… you haven’t seen who they have down there.” I near, muttered. Lucille looked puzzled as I showed her the author of this very paper.

Her eyes grew wide with fear, as we read out loud in unison;

“Tintin…”

***

This has been my first draft of my new Tintin fan fiction, I’m still writing the rest of the chapters and will share them periodically! But for now, have a sneak peek at my first attempt! (It’s not that great right now again, first draft lol, please let me know of anything I can improve on, feedback is always lovely!”

Plus while I’m here, here is the official designs for Jaques and Lucille Beaumont

[disgraceful-writings]

Meant To Be

Chapter 4

Y/n and Aegon were born on the same day, with velvet eyes and white crowns. Y/n is sent to Oldtown by their mother to keep her pure. What happens when she doesn't return so? How will her twin react?

The halls were covered in flowers and banners, their sigil gracing every corner of the castle. The floral scents began to give Aegon a headache. He was woken early for once, considering y/n’s arrival is today. The maids rushed around, tending to everything, the queen demanded everything be perfect. It was the first wedding of her children, even though to each other, she wanted it to be perfect compared to her own. Halaena could be found in the gods wood, Aemond at his mother’s side of course, and Aegon in his room digging a deeper and deeper pit in his stomach. In four days, he would be wed to y/n. 

The carriage ride was uncomfortable. Y/n looked up to the sky, thinking about what her life would be if she could join her family in the skies. When she was young, her egg never hatched, while Aegon’s did. Her nephews would cruelly jest with her and Aemond for not having one. It was one of the reasons she got along with Aemond. If she had a dragon, she would’ve left Westeros. Nothing and no one could’ve stopped her. She could’ve taken Aemond with her. Maybe to Dorne or Braavos where they didn’t have to be held to such expectations.

Aegon had written her once, at least she believes it was him. He had begged her to return, how he was nothing without her. She never received another letter after her reply.

Crowds cheered at the return of their princess. It overwhelmed her to say the least. However, she was happy to be protected behind the castle walls. As she exited the carriage, her mother ran to her and enveloped her in a hug with a kiss to her crown, “My darling.” She tensed at the contact, but smiled when Alicent stepped back, “You must be tired after all the travel. I’ve had a bath drawn and fresh sheets put upon your bed.” “Thank you, mother”, she bowed and spotted her younger siblings at the entrance. “Aemond! Helaena!”, y/n exclaimed. He, too, rushed to his sister for an embrace of the missed girl. “Oh, how I’ve missed you”, she bent down to give him a hug, “I’ve missed so much, and I don’t want to waste any more time.” “I will show you Vhagar, she is everything I could’ve ever dreamed of”, said Aemond with a sparkle in his eye. “I would love that, brother”, Y/n replied, matching the younger’s excitement. Helaena simply looked at her sister and nodded a small hello to her.

 “He can do so later, for now, rest”, Alicent nudged the grinning siblings into the castle. “Where is Aegon”, y/n questioned her younger brother while walking arm in arm to her temporary rooms. “Getting drunk most likely”, Aemond said with disgust, “or he’s found a woman.” Y/n solemnly nodded. “I’ll take you for a ride in the morning if you’d like?” “I would love that, Aemond”, she gave him a kiss on his cheek. They arrived at her chambers and Aemond left her to her own company. He’s grown, she thought to herself, he is still a boy, however. Maids came in to help the princess undress and light candles as the sun was beginning to set. “I wish to be alone”, and with that, the maids bowed and left. 

The princess entered the bath and heard a noise, like someone was in the room, however, she looked around and no one was there. “Is someone there”, she questioned, “I will call my guards.” After a few moments of nothing but the warm wind, she tried to relax in the bath. Y/n has to tell them. She lied to her uncle and said she had written about what happened with Xavier to her mother. She would’ve been distraught, and what would Aegon have thought? What would Aemond say? She’s a whore? It was all her fault it happened, if she had just kept to herself. No, it’s in the past. 

Aegon had been so highly strung, he almost cleaned out the wine supply of all Westeros. He had heard the cheers of the crowd and tried to stand, only to fall back into his chair. I wonder how she’s grown, he thought to himself, now that she’s considered mature. She’s always been mature, though. Especially more than me, he smiled at this particular thought. Aegon drunkenly looked at the maid who was sent to clean after him and wondered how y/n had changed. Last he saw her, she was a short, stubby kid. So, he decided to find out for himself.

Their mother had put her in her old rooms, therefore Aegon knew the secret passageway to her room. When they were children, they would sneak cakes and treats from the kitchens into her room to have a night together. He began to think if she would do that again when he moved behind the partition and caught the maids undressing her. His eyes could not leave her body. 

She was here. She was so close. He could reach out and touch her. His hand instead moved to relieve some sudden pressure from his trousers. Y/n was bare as the day they first met and leaving nothing to Aegon’s imagination. He had to relieve himself, so he took out his cock and begun to stroke to the thoughts of what he was going to do to her body. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over the bath and take his god given right. The thought of her squeezing, so wet and warm for him, he let a strangled moan out on accident.

“Is someone there”, she questioned. Shit. I have to get out of here. He then left the room as swiftly as he entered, after haphazardly stuffing himself back into his pants.  He didn’t make it halfway to his rooms before he had to take his cock out again. With his left hand he stroked himself and the right was keeping him from plummeting to the ground. “Fuc-”, he moaned quietly, “take it.” He thought of her, in between his legs, begging for his cum while rubbing her needy pussy on his shoe. She was angelic, and he would give her everything she ever asked for.

Taglist : @watercolorskyy, @xitsemm, @d3nny

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Masterlist

[promethea-silk]

No Salvation Where I'm From

Her days had fallen relatively quiet since she last spoke with Ricard, the anticipation from awaiting word of the man’s meeting with Vahalia Cress quickly fading after a certain point. Cordelia had gone about her business, readying the ledgers and ensuring her products were all in order to be sent out on the Cress’ ship. Her mind rarely lingered on one thing for far too long, it raced beyond a singular concentration as the woman was ever moving. Could it be that her conscience was weighing on her, the guilt of pulling Ricard into a risky situation on her behalf eating away at her thoughts and thus she pushed it aside? Doubtful, extremely so, but there had been the briefest glimmer of this in her mind before it fell to the back of her awareness as day to day tasks consumed her.

Having received the rather terse letter by way of Wren’s deliverance, Cordelia had simply taken up her glass of wine to polish it off before penning a similar succinct response that held solely where her home was located within the city and when he should arrive. She had muddled through her options going forward in the matter, coming to two conclusions that would be kept to herself until hearing what Ricard would have to say when he arrived. Formed in blackened lace and silks, she roamed the hallways until finding settlement in a room off from the main floors, comfortable and lavished seating of various types set about the area. Bookshelves lined the perimeters of the room, taking up nearly every wall, and a moderately sized couch set closer to the middle of the room where a cart held various bottles filled with different hues of liquids within them depending on your mood. 

Ricard knew most of the Ishgard well enough to navigate it with his eyes closed - the address she’d sent was one that was unfamiliar, but hadn’t taken long to find, as there were few places he hadn’t visited with some amount of frequency, whether that had been for his business, or his uncle’s. Regardless, he’d found his way there with relative ease, arriving just as the sun was setting, his firm knock at the door signaling his arrival and his darkened gaze meeting whomever happened to open the door. 

He wasted little time giving his name and purpose, assuming the individual knew why he was there, and followed them back until he spotted his quarry, not bothering to wait to be announced. “Cordelia, we’ve a bit of an issue.” He offered a quick not to whatever individual had led him back before moving into the room. His facial hair was a bit thicker than usual, the circles under his eyes a bit darker - it was clear he hadn’t slept the night before. “Vahalia took the news about as well as I expected, which was not well at all, and she didn’t take kindly to the fact that I’ve been keeping an eye on your brother-in-law. In fact I was offered quite an interesting choice.”

“The job or my life - so I thought we might need to have a chat.”

Cordelia had barely offered any reaction when he came through the door, having expected such a greeting.  She simply lifted her gaze from the book in her hands and sighed heavily, giving him a very pointed look. “Ricard.” The name was said sharply, mingling with the sound of the book snapping shut. Her demeanor was similar to that of a mother about to scold their child for bad manners. “We really need to work on your greetings.” 

A flash of a smirk graced her lips as she adjusted in her rather lounged position on a large couch by the fireplace that crackled and popped with life. With a bit of a stretch, she reached out to pluck up the unusually filled glass of wine to bring it to her lips, emptying it just a bit before returning it to the cart that was placed next to the couch. Next to the glass was a piece of parchment and a pouch that rivaled the two she had given him upon the meeting when he had accepted the job. Waving a hand toward him, she nodded. “Well, go on then. And since you’re here, might as well make yourself comfortable, you look awful.”

“Sleep has been a bit elusive.” He looked for an empty seat, finding a spot and easing down before rubbing his temples in small circles trying to ease the tension there. “Vahalia did not take kindly to the fact that my tailing Damien involved any information about the Cress family. Any. No matter how trivial, no matter how small. Don’t know if she believed me or not regarding the information related to Valeria - at this point it doesn’t much matter.”

He sighed. “But, it does make things moving forward tricky.” Ricard glanced across at her. “I know Vahalia - I know she doesn’t do things by half measures, Cordelia. If I keep tailing Damien as is, there’s a good chance I end up in a ditch somewhere and Vahalia Cress will be claiming victory over my dead body.”

As he spoke, Cordelia watched him with a simple expression, almost as if she had already heard what he was informing her. Lips formed a thin line as she hummed quietly beneath his spoken words, head nodding with slow intent. “I see.” Once again, she shifted in her position, her back straightening to the poised posture that most were accustomed to seeing in her stature. “Well, we can’t have you going and getting stabbed again, hm?” 

Pushing from the couch, she took the pouch in hand from the table, the parchment along with it, before crossing the short distance toward him. Arm outstretched to offer the gil to him as well as what would seem like a contract of sorts. An agreement of silence. “I presumed this was where we were heading, considering our last conversation. I took it upon myself to see ends tied, your last payment a little extra for your…inconveniences. Consider yourself absolved, Ricard, life well intact - sans new puncture wounds.” Her eyes fell briefly to his abdomen with the finality of her words, awaiting for him to take up her offerings.

Ricard licked his lips quickly, his brow furrowing as worked to process through what was just said. “You want me…to stop.” He reached up, running a hand through his hair. “I…alright look, I thought we might be able to adjust, have some of the men report to Baines or find a way to filter out things that have to do with anyone related to the Cress family but…are you sure? You have what you need? I don’t leave jobs half finished, Cordelia - and I’m willing to deal with the wrath of Vahalia Cress. We just might need to get creative in how we’re handling things.” 

This wasn't a sudden concern for his well-being…so what was it? “And what if I refuse to sign this and refuse the gil and choose to continue to job - what then?”

A sigh escaped her lips as her arm fell to her side, items in hand. Just slightly, a hip cocked out to the side with her gaze holding steadfast down onto him. “Are you willing to deal with  Vahalia’s wrath? From where I stand it seems as if you have been struggling to deal with it for a while now.” Pursing her lips, she clicked her tongue just slightly. Cordelia was hardly someone that enjoyed beating around the bush on things, she much rather simply get to the point of it all and move forward. The back and forth with Ricard was already becoming a bit frustrating for her.

“I haven’t been dealing with it as I haven’t been interacting with her. Probably didn’t make things any better when I went in to discuss things with her, come to think about it.”

“You condemn me for not paying you, now you’re threatening to deny my coin?” She chided, snorting out a huff quietly before tossing the pouch to his lap but kept the paper in hand.

He set the pouch aside without so much as a noise, running his free hand over his face in a tired manner.

“Tell me why, exactly, would you choose to do such a thing? Continuing the work, aside from preserving your pride. Considering the difficulty it was to get you to take the job in the first place, Ricard, I’m finding it difficult to see what about this job is benefiting you enough to risk your life, as you stated. You aren’t in dire need of my gil, it’s not a particularly rewarding task, and surely my company does not make up for the cons here.”

“You underestimate the pleasure of your company, Cordelia.” Cheeky - but his tone didn’t match the words, he was far too tired too…frustrated? He tilted his head from side to side for a moment before meeting her gaze. “The previous job was a completed job. The man was removed, the will secured, your assets freed. This-“ his jaw clenched as he stood from the chair approaching her, “-this is not complete. I have information coming in that there are whispers of Damien seeking transportation and a guide for the far east. What the fuck he’s doing out there, no clue, but there are trails just dangling to be followed that have nothing, as far as I can tell, to do with the Cress name.”

Cordelia had scoffed a bit at his sly retort, giving a bit of a childish rolling of her eyes before they once again settled on him. “To be fair you aren’t backing out, I am by offering you the option to walk away.” Her features twisted slightly as he continued, offering further information on the target they both had come to watch like prey, eyes following him as he approached. 

“Same damn thing in my book. I’m not much of a broker without a decent reputation - stopping a job because of a threat, no matter how valid the threat doesn’t inspire confidence that I’m going to get the job done. As I said - I think there are ways around Vahalia’s demand that don’t end with me on a pike, and I have a team ready to head east…far away from Ishgard, Valeria and Vahalia. My team here would monitor his assets, business workings and report to Delwyn - who would then report to you, anything mentioning Cress gets scrapped. I didn’t come here to bail, I came here to find a compromise.”

Holding her stance stern for the initial moment, she released a slow and steady breath, the inner workings of her thoughts loud in her mind as it began to become apparent that Damien was turning into even more of a sly man than she anticipated. “Fine, I will hear what else you have to say.” Turning at the waist, however, she gestured to the accessible amount of liquors and wine, glasses for each option to accompany. “Have a drink, though. You really do look rather dreadful.” 

“Lack of sleep - and not for any pleasurable or fun reasons - will do that to a man.” He moved over in the indicated direction, grabbing a glass and a bottle of bourbon, pouring more than a typical amount, not bothering with ice. He took a generous sip before capping the bottle and turning back towards Cordelia. “If I walk away that means you’re left trying to find another broker, and trying to find another broker who is going to do half as good a job as my men will is a tall order in and of itself. That’s not me being a braggart, that’s simply a statement of fact. And as I said, I don’t leave jobs half finished Cordelia.”

Once he found his drink of choice, she bridged the gap between them. Purposefully, she reached around him dangerously close to take up the already indulged glass of wine. “Yes, you have made a point of that.” Bringing the glass to her lips, she kept her gaze on him, her head turned just slightly to the side. Once removed, she repeated the motions to return the glass to the cart. “Then again, if I didn’t have you I would not  likely look for another broker, Ricard. As I stated when I came to you, I am capable of handling this on my own, I was simply looking to…delegate.” Settling back in a stance before him, she waved a hand with a nod. “Nevertheless, you have intrigued and convinced me to hear out your further plans. No need to continue defending yourself.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at her proximity, waiting for her to move away before speaking. “I have questions - but we’ll come to those later.” Another long sip was taken from his glass. “I’m waiting to hear from the team I have stationed around Ishgard, but my intent is to shift my focus to whatever is happening in the far east. One doesn’t suddenly start asking about transportation and guides for mere pleasure cruises. Once I have a few more details from them then I’ll have an idea of where to focus efforts, where to place people. I will, of course, have to maintain a presence here due to the family business - but we could still be receiving information regarding his movements - what he’s up to, where he’s going.”

Eyes narrowed onto him with his first words, head canting to the side a bit. With him continuing, however, she also brushed off the curiosity and listened further. “Now that I think about it…he has been rather quiet since-” Blinking, she shook her head and removed the thought. “Since he removed himself from the estate. I had assumed he was simply sulking after having been put in his place.” Shrugging, she hummed in a pensive state. “I suppose having your men as opposed to my own does make it easier.” 

There was a pause as he took another sip of his drink before offering a nod. “Aye - my people aren’t known entities. They get in, they get out, you get the information you want and you’re not forced to…what was the phrase you used the night you pitched the job to me? ‘Dirty your hands’?” 

A  soft “tch” came at him when he repeated the words she had used on him prior. Lifting a hand, she turned it over and closed it as she took note of the sharp claw-like ends to her perfectly manicured fingers. “Mm, I would surely hate to have to break a nail if I don’t have to. Don’t get it wrong, though, I will break every single one if I have to.”

He licked his lips for a moment, downing half of what remained in his glass before setting the container down and taking a small step forward towards her. “But I am curious - you mentioned then, and you’ve mentioned again tonight that you’re more than capable of handling this task yourself, so why approach me with it at all, Cordelia?"

When he stepped closer, Cordelia returned her steel hues to his own, a brow raising as she seemed to challenge the man. “I recall you asking me that very question the night I originally came to you. I believe I answered it.” 

“You told me you wanted eyes on him, sure. But as you said, you didn’t need a broker in the first place. And yet you choose to seek out one that has a tie to the woman that Damien is actively involved with. Don’t twist things - I’m just looking to understand your motivations and the larger game at play. There are plenty of brokers within the city walls who could have followed him and never had an issue crossing the Cress family. So again, why approach me?” One could almost see the wheels turning in his head as his gaze met hers, not backing away from her gaze in the slightest. 

“And you said it, yourself, Ricard. You did the last job for me so well, why wouldn’t I come back for more?” The question was asked with a bit of a smirk, breaking their connected gaze as she fidgeted with the fabrics of her skirts, smoothing it out with the palms of her hands. “Is the reason why really all that important? You are getting your gil and something pretty to look at while being here.” Hands came out to her sides just enough to motion to herself in jest. 

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Perhaps it was the conversation from days before. Perhaps it was the mention of him ‘just getting his gil’ or just ‘looking at something pretty’ in the process. Or perhaps it was the combination of all of those factors. 

“Yes, Cordelia. It is. Despite what some may think, gil and having something pretty to look at aren’t the only motivating factors for my behavior.” 

The woman sighed heavily, lids closing for a breath before opening them to look back to Ricard with the pursing of her lips. She always knew to be careful with what she offered in terms of her thoughts and silent plans. “I can trust that you get the job done the way I need it to be done, Ricard. Why would I seek out someone new when I already had a, albeit brief, rapport with you?” A ghostlike touch would come to his chest, fleeting and perhaps barely felt if he were unable to see the gesture. “Plus, it gives us both something nice to look at in the process.”

His gaze followed her hand, before shifting back to meet her eyes, unconvinced. 

After a moment, she huffed and dropped her hand, pressing her lips together in one final concise decision. “I wanted to test the waters, so to speak. See the lengths and boundaries that were surrounding the Cress house. Not because I wish to involve myself in their matters or business outside of the business in which I conduct with them, but for the purpose of knowing what Damien tends to be getting himself into. If he causes an issue, I want to know the extent in which I have to expect blow back from Vahalia. All of the prior mentioned reasons are still reasons, but you were also a line to push those curiosities. Thus, I offered to be the one to report to Vahalia of her sister’s whereabouts.”

A heavy silence filled the room as he reached for his glass, downing what remained within the container before slowly, deliberately, setting it down on the nearest surface as he gathered his thoughts. “That’s why you were perfectly content to end the contract this evening - because you did have the information you wanted. You knew how Vahalia was going to respond. You used me as fucking bait. You had me and my men push the boundaries, knowing damn well that the Cress family was going to be involved sooner rather than later and knowingly, knowingly let the shit just happen.” 

Ricard slowly turned his back towards her, blue eyes burning in barely contained fury, his jaw clenched tightly. “This never had to do with you brother in law at all - this was always about Vahalia fucking Cress and her house.” 

She raised her chin in defiance, even after he had turned away from her, the rising irritation slowly growing in her chest. “This had everything to do with Damien.” She began, arms lifting now to cross over one another before her. “I offered you a way out at every turn, Ricard. Do not play like some helpless victim. I know you do you job well, despite Vahalia’s spiteful jaded opinions. The basis of this entire job was him, not House Cress, it was simply an added bonus. I told you from the beginning that I wanted nothing to do with details going on in the Cress Estate and that you or your men had no need to step foot there. I suggested I be the one to bring the details to Vahalia about her sister and you denied me. And tonight? Tonight I give you a way out of it all yet again and you throw it back in my face.”

One hand reached out in an attempt to turn him around to face her, though the test of her strength really was shown in that moment. She was strong willed but brawn was not in her repertoire. “Think what you will, Ricard, but I hardly used you as bait.” 

He allowed the hand to turn him, fighting back an irritated snarl. “No - then what would you call the individual you use to ‘push curiosities’, Cordelia? I would call that person bait. I was being used to push boundaries that you didn’t want to push, to test limits that you didn’t want to test. And now you have your information and so what - I’ve served my purpose?” He pointed over towards the paper she had offered earlier in the discussion and the pouch of gil. “So I can sign that document, take the gil and whatever happens after that is no longer your concern, right? You have what you paid for.”

“Oh, by the Twelve, would you get it together?” Cordelia spat out, the tone more of a frustrated huff rather than overwhelming anger. “It’s like you aren’t listening to a single word I’m saying and simply choosing to throw a temper tantrum like I’ve gone and hurt your feelings.” Arms now outstretched at her sides as if showing she were empty, nothing else to offer. “I got what I wanted with Vahalia, yes, the information on Damien was informative, yes. That?” A finger directed to the paper with a sharp movement. “Was to cover both of our asses. Not just for me to leave you high and dry. What you chose to do, was just that, your choice and what you chose to do following tonight was the same. You are a stubborn man, Ricard Blythe, and I think you like the fire far too much for your own good but also a bit blind because of the many times you’ve been burned.”

“No, I’m listening just fine, Cordelia Gray.” He took a small step forward, closing what little gap there was between the two of them. Frustration and irritation rolled off of him in waves, and perhaps it was that, or perhaps it was the exhaustion that was finally beginning to impact his judgment - regardless he pressed on. “I’ve never denied being stubborn, but what is it that you’re claiming  that I’m blind to in this instance?” 

The muscles in her body tensed, teeth grinding together as he stepped even closer to her. While fear was not the word Cordelia would use to describe her emotions in the moment, she was acutely aware of the last time a hot headed man approached her. “I’m not trying to screw you over, Ricard Blythe, nor am I out to see you dead or in any way trying to get at you. I withheld details, I tried to manipulate the situation to my liking but also to help you and you ignored it. Now-” A pause allowed her to take a short breath and swallow hard, chin lifting even higher as she refused to make herself smaller before him. “- you can continue this pity party and prove Vahalia right in her opinions, or we can move on. Both options that were offered at the beginning of the night are still available. Take the gil, sign the contract, be free of this job and the threat on your life, or continue working with me and finish it out the way you originally wished.”

“How conveniently worded. You manipulated me.” Noting the posture and her overall tension, he took a small step back, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing in her direction. “Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?” The comment about Vahalia was completely ignored as he adjusted his coat, seemingly preparing to leave. “By your leave, I’d like to give the matter some thought. Assuming I’m still alive in the next day or so, I should have an answer for you.”

Again she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “You said the job or your life, doing work that involves them or your life. If you are keeping your distance I don’t see what the fuss is still about. I think you can drop the dramatics.” Watching him move to take his coat, she steadily inhaled before releasing the breath with control. “Do as you wish. But Ricard, I’m not out to get you.” She turned toward him, attempting to soften her otherwise harsh features in the slightest reassurance. “I don’t expect anything from you, at that.”

“If you think it’s dramatics, then you don’t know Vahalia Cress half as well as you think you do.” He adjusted his coat as he moved towards the door. “I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow evening at the latest. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Cordelia.” 

[Collab with @ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Mentions : @vahalia-cress-ffxiv @spirit-speaking @damien-gray-ffxiv

@sanguinecourt-ffxiv

[peony-pearl]

Zuko mentions to Ursa he would like for his little siblings to come to the Fire Nation to enjoy the summer festival.

By saying ‘siblings’ she knows he’s talking about Chiyo and Katsu - Ozai’s children.

Ursa, Noren and Kiyi have taken residence at the Fire Nation palace for years now, ever since Ursa was discovered on the outskirts of Hira’a. Once Zuko got the information out of Ozai just over ten years ago where his mother had taken up residence, he was escorted there by Aang to reunite with her. Ursa did not hesitate to return to her children once Zuko lifted her banishment, and she was a key figure in Azula’s recovery.

When Ozai broke out of prison, Ursa was a driving force in trying to find him after he threatened Azula’s life. Knowing he was out there, free, for the past decade has haunted her.

And then, just two years ago, Zuko and Azula received news of his whereabouts... and they found him with the help of Aang, Katara and June.

And they let him keep his freedom.

Zuko’s explanation of the events sounded like a bad dream. Ursa listened to her boy, whom Ozai had savagely scarred as a child, defend his decision after seeing Ozai happy out in some Earth Kingdom farm with a new family.

She was speechless. Zuko had left children in the midst of this monster.

Azula was the one who was more critical of her father’s new life. She vented to Ursa about the pain of seeing him so happy with this naive, sheltered woman who decided to stay with Ozai even after learning about his past. Regardless, Azula would eventually begin receiving letters from both the woman, Niwa, and from her younger sister, Chiyo.

And then Zuko dropped the bombshell.

Chiyo was an Airbender.

Ursa spoke to Aang upon his return with Zuko and Azula. He seemed over the moon, to not only learn there was another Airbender in the world, but she was the descendant of one of Aang’s fellow Southern Air Temple residents, and this revelation gave him hope that there could be more Airbenders in waiting out in the world.

And yet, despite all of this... Ursa could only remember the man who who began denying her as a wife when his lust for the crown became stronger; the man who planted the seeds of lies to his daughter of her being a monster, seeds that blossomed into a beautiful, deadly flower. A flower that he ripped out of it’s garden bed and crushed under his boot when she was no longer useful. And Zuko, the son that he turned against and berated and scolded when all he ever did was his best, until the day he finally tried to step into more assertive shoes earned him a permanently damaged eye.

“So...” Zuko begins to speak. “I’ve thought about inviting dad and Niwa and the kids. I’ll make sure he doesn’t come around you, or Noren or Kiyi. But... he’s kept his end of his promise so far. I’ve thought it was only fair to extend a hand back to him.”

Ursa knew the promise: to write to Zuko and Azula, and to maintain a form of communication on a regular basis.

Zuko also regularly received letters from Niwa and Chiyo, and each one ensured truth to Ozai’s words. Even Azula, who often worried that Ozai was telling Chiyo what to write, would read her little sister’s letters that contained questions and thoughts only a seven year old could ask.

Ursa sighs as Zuko makes his case; he stumbles as he sees his mother’s unhappiness. “I-I can have them stay on the other side of the palace,” he says. Azula sits next to Ursa; Aang sits next to her.

Azula squeezes her mother’s hand. “Or we don’t have to invite him.”

Zuko nods, albeit reluctantly, to his sister’s suggestion. Azula becomes miffed.

“Why are you so adamant to see him here?”

“I’m not! I just-”

“You’ve asked every year since we found him if he can visit.”

“That’s only two years, Azula,” Zuko sighs. “Uncle’s been asking about him too.”

“Well, Uncle’s senile,” Azula crossed her arms.

“Azula,” Ursa gently admonished her daughter, who turned her gaze away as she pouted.

Aang touched Azula’s knee, but remained focused on Zuko. “Maybe just invite the kids?”

Zuko shook his head. “Katsu is only two, and to give up her kids so suddenly for a week may not be easy for Niwa.”

Aang grinned at Azula. “It would be good practice though.”

“Get your head out of those clouds; no kids until those vows are said,” Azula smirked.

“You keep declining my engagement!”

“This is a talk for another time,” Azula hissed quietly.

Ursa, having maintained her silence, wrings her hands together. “... Zuko, in the end, you are the Fire Lord. And this is your home.”

Zuko shakes his head. “Yeah, but-”

Ursa holds up her hand. “I admit. I am not keen on seeing him again. Ever again. But... I know this is something you’ve felt strongly about. Ultimately, the decision is yours to make. I simply ask that you inform me of the decision so I can... make arrangements.”

Azula grinned. “Poison arrangements?” She asked, nudging her mother’s ribs. Ursa chuckled.

“If only I could be so lucky.”

“Guys,” Zuko said in exasperation. “Look... I’ll just invite them next y-”

“No, stop it.” Azula rolled her eyes. “Just tell them to come. Spirits, you’re such a downer, Zuzu.”

“Yeah, Zuzu,” Aang echoed his fiancee. Zuko shot him a tired look.

“I agree,” Ursa said. “Invite them. Besides; should anything go wrong, we have you three to keep him in his place; and Kiyi is becoming more proficient in her own bending.”

“Yeah; if he pulled anything we could take him!” Aang agreed.

Ursa could see the look on Zuko’s face though; but still, he nodded and watched as Aang and Azula decided to retire to bed. Ursa lingered, waiting to talk to her son in private.

“Zuko,” she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “You don’t owe him any-”

“This isn’t about owing him. I know where I stand on what dad did to me; to us.”

“And yet you’re so hopeful to see him again.”

“Is it wrong to hope for a new path? I found mine, mom. Outside of the Fire Nation. Away from him. I found my life, my meaning. And so has he. I saw it. I saw him experience a life he’d become fully invested in. I saw two happy kids; a beautiful home... And...”

“... And?” Ursa asked.

Zuko swallowed.

“... And I was so mad he found it without us. But you know what? I also found my path without Azula. And... she’ll always have that in her mind. But she’s forgiven me.”

“She could not control the struggles you faced.”

“As I couldn’t control hers; and I’ll always have dad’s favoritism to remember. We’ve all been subjected to lives we didn’t want. Dad was one of them. So were you.”

Ursa folded her arms in front of her, looking much like her daughter. Zuko pleaded to her, still not quite over the fact that he was so much taller, and yet he still spoke to her like she towered over him.

“Mom... The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But there’s a part of me that wants to see this through. He’s my father. And I’ve hated him, and part of me still hates him. But after everything I’ve learned... if Aang can forgive me for everything I allowed to happen to him and his friends... if Uncle can forgive me for turning away from him, I want to know I can reciprocate that.”

“You don’t have to forgive him.”

“Mom, I haven’t. I will never forgive him for what he did to me, or Azula, or you. But I feel like I have an obligation, as the Fire Lord, to make sure he’s not causing trouble. I called off the searches once I saw how much he’s changed. Others have done the same for me. Time goes on. He... He looked out for me back when we were looking for Chiyo. I was hurt and he stayed with me.”

Ursa’s eyes widened as Zuko recalled the event to her for the first time.

“When I told him we would find Chiyo he was thankful for me. I... Sometimes I think maybe now... Maybe now I could get to know my dad-”

“Zuko you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t. But it’s my decision. I respect every bit of advice I get from you but this is something... something I need to do for myself. If Azula never wants to see him again after this, I will never invite him again.”

Ursa reached out to hold her son’s hand.

“And you’re not scared?” She asked. Zuko laughed.

“Mom, I’m terrified.”

Ursa’s face became one of determination.

“Then I will be right here with you.”

“I’m not scared that he’ll hurt me,” Zuko insisted. “Like you said, we can handle him if he were to become a threat.”

Ursa clasped Zuko’s hand tightly with both of hers. “But you’re still scared,” she said. “And I won’t let you be scared alone; not after I missed so many years.”

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part xii- the bed, the mirror, the couch

“show me the most damaged parts of your soul, and i will show you how it still shines like gold” - nikita gill

summary: you give steve and bucky the letters, and receive something much better in return

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: cussing, light angst, trauma, but yay fluff, brief mentions of racism and homophobia, me completely giving up on writing a realistic court scene

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long 😭 i’ve been busy af but i’m excited to get further into this. also if anyone sent me requests they’ve been mega screwed up so i’m so sorry if i haven’t responded, you can send them again if u want. they literally appear for like two seconds and then disappear and it’s very confusing. anyway as always hope u enjoy and love u all! 🤍🥺

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsivymusic

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Dear Bucky,

You wouldn’t believe how much of a mess we are without you. I haven’t slept and it’s been three days since the train and I still can’t get the image of you falling out of my head. Steve looked away. A part of me wishes I had. I can’t close my eyes without seeing one of my best friends die a cold death.

I’ve tried to write, but my pen can never make it very far before I burn the paper. Hopefully, this one makes it past that stage.

The rest of the Commandos are grieving as well, but they’ve really been the driving force to keep the mission going. We’ve been interrogating Zola for information; I’m guessing he’ll cave any day.

Enough of avoiding the subject. I’ve loved you and Steve since the day I met you on the playground. And I never stopped. Not even now.

It scared me for a long time how far I would go for you two, but losing you scared me more. I would rather kill hundreds than see you slip away inches from my hand. You always said I wasn’t much of a killer, but in the past days… I’ll admit in this letter to you that I’ve dreamt of watching the life leave Arnim Zola’s eyes as I plant an arrow through his chest.

The news won’t mention that you were drafted, or that you had a family, or that you wanted to go into the sciences. I can’t go home to Rebecca and your ma when I can’t bring you with me.

But, God, I loved you. With every atom in my body and every second of my time. And it keeps me going when Steve and I want to break down. Because there’s something in me that says I’ll see you again. As foolish as that hope is, I’ll cling to it until it comes true.

———————————————————————

Dear Steve,

You’re a hero. Just like you wanted to be.

They’ve given you articles and a museum and National Honors, and they’ll remember you until the Sun explodes and glows half as bright as you did.

I hope you’re giving Bucky a hard time. For my sake as well as yours. At least you two are together. Just like I wrote to him, I have to tell you what I wish I’d said.

I’ve loved you two for forever. And now that you’re both gone I don’t know what I’m going to do. Because before I loved you like this, I loved you as my best friends. I could accept never getting married, and never holding your hands like I wanted to. As long as we stuck together.

But being alone is like a void has taken your place. I still wake up and have a moment where I get excited to see you and tell you about the strangest dream I had, and the second I realize you’re not there my world stills.

You were golden. And you always shone brighter than me and Buck. You were golden before you were Captain America and after and now. I wish we could’ve kept you a secret, but you were made to inspire. And I loved you for that and despite that.

I’m the only one left now. I guess, in a way, I’m the end of the line. But it’s coming to an end, and I can’t wait to see you.

———————————————————————

Bucky and Steve set the letters down as you stare at them expectantly. It’s late at night now, and you’re feeling much better than a few hours ago, but the nervousness is still creeping in as you watch their expressions.

“...So?” you ask quietly. This is the hard part. Not knowing if this is good or bad, but either way, it’ll change everything.

Bucky opens his mouth, but chokes back a sniffle before he can form the words. Similarly, Steve steps forward, and wordlessly pulls you into a hug from where you sit on the bed. You lean into him, almost holding your breath as you wait for them to respond.

The former sits next to you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know we’re, what? Sixty, seventy years late? But any chance you still feel that way?” he asks. You nod.

Steve picks up from there. “And what would happen if we said we also feel the same way?”

Your breath hitches and you freeze entirely. When you meet their gazes with a questioning look in your eyes, they nod.

“Doll?” Bucky taps your back. “You alright?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” With some watery laughs, the three of you collapse on the bed, maneuvering into a pile of limbs and wings.

Propping yourself up on your stomach in between them, you flush bright red as Steve begins to lean in. He pauses, inches away as Bucky wraps an arm over you and onto him.

“Can I?” the blond asks. Instead of answering, you close the gap. He smiles into the kiss, pulling away and blushing. “I…” He takes a deep inhale. “I love you, too.”

“Wasn’t that your first kiss, Stevie?” Bucky teases. He rolls his eyes, shoving him lightly in the face. “Well, come here.”

The two stretch past you to kiss, and as forbidden as it would’ve been considered all that time ago, now, it just seems right. When they part, Bucky turns to you, pulling you in with a shaky exhale of “Love you”.

It feels like the stars aligned just for you three. They peek through the clouds as the moon casts a silvery glow on your skin.

“Where do we go from here?” Steve asks.

You hum, giddy beyond belief. “Does it matter? I don’t know, and I honestly don’t know if I care.” You all laugh, burrowing under the blankets and curling in closer than you’d ever dare before.

“As far as I’m concerned, we deserve whatever we want after all that shit,” Bucky mumbles, peppering kisses on the top of your head. Following suit, Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing small circles in your palm. The touch makes your eyes flutter shut, wings twitching as sleep becomes all the more alluring.

“I second that,” you manage, blinking hazily without a care in the world. “I think we’ve earned a break.” Even with everything that happened with HYDRA, all of the harm you caused, you were willing to lay down your troubles for one night of peace.

Steve huffs lightly. “Yeah, like we’re gonna get that. That deal Tony made today? With… Ross.” He says the name with burning contempt. “Was that you two got out in exchange for the trials starting this week.”

After a moment of consideration, Bucky moves on to running his hands through your feathers. “We’ll work through it. However we do it, we’ll do it together.”

A small smile, before you whisper that phrase.

“‘Til the end of the line.”

Two voices whisper it back.

———————————————————————

You wake up from the most restful sleep you’ve ever had as the sun peeks through the curtains.

Did last night actually happen? You glance up to where Steve’s slowly blinking awake. He lazily leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, and you chuckle lightly.

“You have the dumbest grin on your face right now,” he whispers. You only grin bigger.

“Wasn’t sure if I dreamt last night,” you say. “It was nice to get some confirmation.”

From the other side of you, Bucky mumbles. “I’d be glad to give you more confirmation.” Rolling your eyes, you oblige, kissing him as well before yanking the blankets up again.

“I don’t mean to jump the gun, but what do we tell the team?” the blond asks, scooting closer than should be possible.

You frown. “Well, is… this… seen as okay?” Queer relationships were more than unacceptable in the 40s, even more so polyamorous ones. Not to mention interracial relationships were condemned as well. This was breaking all of the rules in the book. Damn the book, for all you cared.

“Pretty much. There’s still assholes, but…” Steve trails off, before lighting up. “I forgot to tell you, shit.”

Bucky reaches over, taking his hand with a knowing grin. “Yeah?”

“They legalized gay marriage a little while back,” he hums. You let out a shaky sigh. Seventy years. It took seventy years, but you’ll take it.

You squint as the sun angles into your eyes. Instead of words, you tuck your head into his chest to hide from the light.

“How ‘bout we keep this our secret for now,” Bucky suggests. “We can tell them later, but… I won’t lie and say I’m not enjoying keeping you two to myself.”

You giggle, a light, unfamiliar sound from you, and eye the ex-Sergeant.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound a bit jealous, Barnes.” He shrugs. The sound of shuffling footsteps in the hallway reminds you that, eventually, you have to leave the safe space of Steve’s room.

The three of you begin to roll from the bed, and you extend your wings as you stretch in the morning light. When you turn around, Steve’s watching with a content look on his face. You raise a brow.

“What’re you looking at?” you quip. He doesn’t stop staring.

“Nothing. Just glad I can finally tell you how pretty you look.” You blush bright red and run a hand on the back of your neck.

“Feeling sappy?” you ask. He shrugs.

Tugging on a shirt, he throws you a charming smile. Damn him. “Only for you two, ange [angel].”

“I heard that,” Bucky’s voice calls from the bathroom.

“You’re not the only one who can pull the bilingual pet names, jerk,” Steve calls back. You laugh at the exchange, stepping into a low-back tank top.

“Alright, play nice,” you chide. “Let’s go downstairs before they start getting worried.”

Making your way to the kitchen ends up going far too fast, and you reluctantly part hands as you greet the team.

Nat and Wanda are the only ones who notice that something's up. They exchange a glance, but say nothing as the three of you cast lovesick stares at one another.

“Ah, the Three Musketeers finally got out of bed?” Tony asks. He grins, pointing to the counter. “Scott made waffles.”

“They’re surprisingly good,” Clint confirms, causing the Ant-Man to frown.

Tony pauses. “The trial starts today. This afternoon.”

You, Steve, and Bucky glance at each other.

“Isn’t that sooner than we expected?” the blond asks.

Stark sighs, massaging his temples. “Yes, but Ross isn’t wasting any time. We gotta go with the deal.”

You nod.

“My lawyers are the best in the country, but this isn’t gonna be easy.” The billionaire seems almost worried for you. “Just… you’re gonna have to talk about what happened.”

“In HYDRA.”

Your mind is more than happy to provide dozens of memories. Experiments and needles, cold cells, and even colder food. Agents grabbing at you and dragging you away from Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, to be more accurate.

The deaths you caused. The innocent civilians that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn’t matter to you who you killed. Just that you stayed an anonymous killer.

“(Y/N).” You hum, not really acknowledging the call of your name.

What would you have done if all of you had survived? You probably would’ve lived a happy life, eventually confessed to your boys, and died with the biggest secret of your lives buried where the historians would never find it.

But Steve wouldn’t have the permanent worry line etched between his brows, Bucky wouldn’t have the countless scars surrounding his metal arm, and you…

Your wings feel heavier than usual. So do your hands.

“(Y/N)!” When you snap back to the present, the lights are unusually bright.

“Shit,” you mumble, reeling in your powers before you explode a bulb. “Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Your boys are next to you in a heartbeat. “You’re alright, we just need to ease into… thinking about it,” Bucky mutters. “It’ll provide the evidence we need, though.”

Steve nods. “This is our best chance to get the public back on our side after the whole deal in Germany, too.”

It was no secret that the public opinion on the Avengers had been tainted after their little “Civil War”, as the press called it. Some sided with Steve, others with Tony, and some just thought the whole mess was stupid.

The genius claps. “Well, let’s suit up.”

———————————————————————

Suiting up ended up meaning pulling on a custom-tailored dress shirt, blazer, and pants. When you questioned where the clothes came from, Steve confessed that he’d told Tony about your preference for pants.

Not that you were complaining. The suit fit perfectly, and the gold buttons were a nice touch. Bucky tugged on gloves, successfully concealing his metal arm. But there was nothing to hide your wings.

You frown in the mirror. They loom, like some dark reminder of what you’d done. They’d be the focus of the public. You know they will be.

Carefully running your hand along one wing, you pick at the tips of the feather.

Bucky steps into view in the mirror, turning you away from it and extending a hand, before jerking it back. You take his left hand anyway, giving it a light squeeze that he can’t really feel but means the world to him despite that.

“You ready?” he asks. You shrug.

“Not like we’ve got any other options.” He hums. “I’m done running.”

Steve finishes tying his tie and joins you two, checking his new watch with a heavy sigh. “We’ve got ten minutes until we go.” He takes your hands. “Will you guys be okay?”

You nod. You’ll make it through alright. Even if it sucks.

“I wish there was a way to hide my wings,” you whisper, reluctant to even admit it.

They both shake their heads, and Bucky leans into you. “They’re gorgeous, doll. Remind me of that one bird we saw downtown the other day.”

You pause, considering the statement. “James, did you just compare me to a pigeon?”

“A very pretty pigeon,” he adds, eyes closed contentedly.

Steve chuckles. “The prettiest.”

After a while, you part, hurrying down to the garage and stepping into the most high-tech bus you’ve ever seen. It’s spacious enough that your wings don’t hit anyone in the face as you climb in, and the tinted windows provide some privacy.

Everyone’s dressed to the nines, even Peter, who’s just going as a representative of his secret identity. Yet despite the pressed shirts and gold jewelry, no one’s very talkative.

It’s a quiet and nervous bus ride into Manhatten, but the silence is broken by Tony as the bus slows to a stop in front of the courthouse.

“Alright, folks. Remember: no talking to the press, no shit-talking. Let my team do their job and get us out of this mess with our heads,” he says, checking a screen projected from his watch. “Go break some eggs.”

You, Steve, and Bucky step out first, and the paparazzi roar to life. People push against the barrier gates and police holding them back, some screaming obscenities and others casting pitying looks as you pass.

But you keep your head level, taking Steve’s hand as Bucky does the same, and ascend the steps into the building.

A woman is waiting as the team filters in and guides you down winding hallways to a set of grand doors. The men guarding the entrance open them for you, revealing the largest courtroom you’ve ever laid eyes on.

She leads you to a bench at the front with the lower panel of the back taken out to accommodate your wings. There, you, Bucky, Steve, and Tony sit. The rest of the group sits behind you. The latter’s lawyers arrive soon after, taking their places and speaking in hushed tones.

They come over to you all, asking questions that they note down your answers to, comparing them to their files, and thanking you for your cooperation. They hurry away just as quickly when Ross and his ensemble arrive, taking their own seats.

Then follows the judge, jury, and dozens of men and women carrying cameras and notepads. Cameras flash and you can’t help but wonder what’s so interesting that they need 50 identical pictures of.

Once the judge announces the court to be in session, everything begins to fly by. They ask you to swear your honesty and you do, ignoring the clicks and flashes coming from behind you.

You don’t understand much of the terminology the lawyers toss around, or why Ross keeps insisting on calling people to the stand. Whoever they are, you’re really hoping they weren’t a previous target of HYDRA.

A part of you knows they won’t be any of your targets. You killed all of them without fail. No mistakes, no witnesses.

You sit patiently, trying your best not to look nervous as your heart sinks with every nod Ross receives. Eventually, a break comes, and Tony’s team gives you an overview of what’s happening now.

This was the first of a handful of trials. The next one, two days from now, will require for you and Bucky to testify separately about your time in HYDRA.

They say they need detail. And complete transparency.

Both of you agree. Even if it sends waves of nausea through your body.

After the break, the judge announces that the trial will proceed on the set date and dismisses you all. You pass Ross as the team leaves, and he casts a dirty look at you.

You say nothing, just move on.

The crowd has grown since you got here, and are now trying even harder to pass the barriers. One man with an American flag attempts to jump the gate, but is stopped before he can get too close.

Nonetheless, you flinch away as he screams and spits, wings twitching nervously. Your voice is caught in your throat. You couldn’t respond to the journalists even if you wanted to.

You squeeze back on the bus, ignoring the shouting that grows louder just outside. They all want answers to invasive, prying questions that you honestly can’t answer. You don’t know what kind of funding HYDRA received, or what economic declines you were responsible for.

All you know is who you hurt and how you did it. Nothing else mattered to you when you were like that.

Taking Bucky’s hand without anyone else noticing, you lean your head on Steve’s shoulder as you close your eyes. You don’t want to sleep, no. Just take a moment and block out everything else.

Your boys follow suit. Bucky leans against you and Steve rests his head on top of yours. Not the most comfortable position, but definitely the most comforting.

Meanwhile, Nat nudges Wanda. While, sure, your closeness could just be platonic, she knows better. The way your wings have finally relaxed and slumped over the low back of the seat, How Barnes is finally letting some of that tension out of his shoulders.

“Are you picking up anything?” She waves a finger at the three of you. The younger girl shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers, tilting her head. “But they seem more… content. Not dancing around each other.”

The redhead gives her signature “you’re not wrong” head nod before grinning. “You think they finally told each other?”

Wanda’s small grin tells it all. “The other night, their thoughts were all over the place.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t avoid hearing some louder thoughts. “Then they went calm, and it was just… happy,” she sighs wistfully.

“You know, if you just talk to Vision-” She cuts off the assassin, shushing her as the android remains oblivious.

You don’t notice the girls either, simply nodding off until the bus finally pulls into the compound. As the three of you emerge from the bus, you glance at the time. 7:26. Not nearly late enough to make poor excuses to run off to bed. AKA, you won’t be getting alone time soon enough.

Especially when Peter starts begging for a team movie night. And who are you to deny him? He seems so excited to organize it, sending certain groups to fetch pillows, make food, or pick some movie options.

Once sufficient snacks and blankets are acquired, you sprawl onto a loveseat stomach-first, tossing your feet and legs across Steve’s lap as Bucky takes the floor between you.

One of your wings droops, grazing the floor, while the other folds atop your back to avoid getting squished by the cushions.

Your boys begin to preen the stray feathers, careful not to pinch the skin as they work.

The movie starts, something that Peter calls Star Wars and immediately begins rambling about. You try to pay attention, you really do, but Bucky hits a specific spot on your wings and suddenly you’re zoning out and growing more tired by the second.

You figure the constant fatigue that follows you is a side effect of years of sleep followed by weeks of work. Not that you consider that now.

Your mind is basically putty as your boys work, the movie playing along in the background as you hum to approve or veto where they scratch.

Some high-pitched beeps come from the movie, and you try to focus on the small robot-thing that spins around. Your attention slips far too easily, though, right back to the way Steve’s moved on to scratching the spot in between your wings and is slowly working his way to the small of your back.

You hum, satisfied.

“Oh, so you let them mess with your wings?” Sam jokes, throwing popcorn at Bucky, who smacks it away mid-air.

He huffs. “You’d probably yank out a feather on accident, idiot.”

The man rolls his eyes with a smile. “I know they’re extra sensitive, but they look soft as hell.”

Sitting up a bit and stretching, you shrug. Extending one wing out, you gesture to it.

“You can feel it, just don’t make it a regular thing,” you smile. Sam grins, joking nature cooling as he achieves his goal. To push your comfort zone just the slightest. Sometimes you forget just how smart he is.

He still gawks when his hand makes contact with the downy feathers, flopping back on the couch in disbelief.

“Not fair,” he mutters. “You’ve got a goddamn portable blanket.”

Peter shushes him, groaning about how he’s gonna miss his favorite part of the movie. You all oblige, quieting down as you return to your spot.

Steve leans to whisper in your ear. “You did good.”

“What?”

“A month ago, you wouldn’t even have thought about letting anyone near your wings. Now?” He tilts his head pointedly. “Plus, Buck’s getting more comfortable not hiding his metal arm.” At the nickname, Bucky looks up to you two and joins you on the cramped loveseat.

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you two.”

The praise melts you. And as the movie continues and popcorn gets thrown, you can’t help but be proud of yourself, too.